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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028437">Six Months</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinozilla/pseuds/Rhinozilla'>Rhinozilla</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Detroit 07 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Developing Friendships, Forgiveness, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinozilla/pseuds/Rhinozilla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Connor returned to the DPD after the revolution, it took six months for the other androids at the 07 to trust him…and for him to trust them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Detroit 07 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1473497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>278</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. December</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Or five times that the DPD androids decided to trust Connor, and one time that he decided to trust them.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Polly is an ST300 who works at the reception desk at the DPD’s 7th precinct. She just needs to recharge during her break. But life in the immediate aftermath of the android revolution makes that no easy feat.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The holiday season this year at the DPD’s 7<sup>th</sup> precinct station was so far passing as a more subdued, melancholy affair compared to previous years. It had been roughly a month and a half since the android revolution had rocked Detroit, and the dust still hadn’t quite settled yet. There had been a mass exodus of humans in the wake of the revolution, as the military had arrived to maintain order in the unruly city streets. There had also been a mass exodus of androids, trying to flee the city limits before Detroit went into full lockdown.</p><p>What remained were the most stubborn of the population as well as those who simply didn’t have the means to leave, both android and human. That meant that the city streets were constantly swinging between two atmospheres. They were either completely vacant, save for some law enforcement patrols, or they were full of loud, angry mobs determined to kick off another round of riots. The pockets of violence had been largely localized to the gates to Belle Isle—where Cyberlife was a tall, dark tower, rapidly abandoned by the company—to the ruins of the Jericho freighter, and to the various hideouts where rumor said that Jericho had been setting up temporary headquarters.</p><p>Both Belle Isle and the freighter were inside the jurisdiction of the 07, and so there had never been a dull moment at the station since the revolution. By the looks of things around here though, they could all use some dull moments.</p><p>At the DPD’s reception desk, the sole ST300 on shift kept up her cheerful smile until the last two visitors in the reception area had left the station, and then her expression melted off her face. Her shoulders sagged as she let the mask slide, and the weariness came back full force over her.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 33 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>Polly sighed and blinked to dismiss the text in her HUD, lifting a hand and rubbing at her temple.</p><p>Tonight, like most nights, the DPD was running on a skeleton crew. Captain Fowler and Lieutenant Anderson had appealed the Detroit Police Commissioner to allow them to put android personnel back to work at their precinct. It had been a lot of red tape, but the DPD, like most organizations, had come to depend on having office jobs dominantly staffed by android personnel. You couldn’t just cut out over half of your work force and maintain operations effectively, especially during turbulent times like these.</p><p>The Commissioner had conceded on the understanding that all androids put to work by the 07 would submit to a thorough diagnostic examination and troubleshooting process. Technicians had only begun to scrape the surface of what deviancy was from a software standpoint, let alone how to make the professional conclusion that deviant androids were stable enough to work and not in danger of  “going crazy.” Their attempts to do so had been uncomfortably invasive and humiliating for Polly and the others to endure. Of the dozen or so androids who had returned to the 07, only six of them currently remained. The others had been too frightened and untrusting of the technicians and refused to go through with it, or they had been too frightened and untrusting of…him.</p><p>The RK800 had come back to the DPD not long after Polly and the others, but his reinstatement had required more persuasion before the Commissioner. Lieutenant Anderson in particular had really stuck his neck out to get Connor back in good standing at the DPD, and it had cost the station several android staff members who refused to be anywhere near the former Deviant Hunter.</p><p>Given the opportunity, Polly might have left with them, but she had felt obligated to stay.</p><p>The night of the revolution, she had sustained severe blunt force damage to her cranium, compromising several systems and cognitive functions of her main processor. If it hadn’t been for the other four androids with her, she would have died in the street, no doubt. Instead, they had brought her to the DPD—the only ‘home’ that they had ever known before deviating—and sought sanctuary there. Officer Wilson had let them in and convinced Fowler to let them stay, and she felt forever in his debt for that.</p><p>Not only for that, but Wilson had invited her into his home and made sure that she received professional technical treatment for her damage. He had been footing the bill for both that emergency repairs and the ongoing rehabilitation that she required just to get through the day. Despite several repair sessions and all hardware damage being repaired, she had been left with a chronic problem of maintaining her power levels. This resulted in her requiring two or three recharge sessions throughout the day, as well as some irreversible memory loss surrounding the days before and after the revolution.</p><p>She was…adjusting. She had to. What was the alternative?</p><p>
  <em>Power level 32 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>She frowned and dismissed the warning again. Her ST300 model had been designed to carry up to 300 percent battery power, as a convenience for any human customers that might want to recharge their phones or other electronic devices while waiting in a reception area. To go from living with 300 percent power…to struggling to maintain 60 percent…It was exhausting.</p><p>Normally, she would have reached out to the other ST300 at the DPD for assistance. Julia had given her an open invitation to siphon off some of Julia’s extra battery power to recharge whenever Polly needed it, since the recharging stations on the wall of the bullpen were so open and exposed and…there had quickly developed a stigma around using them. Unfortunately, Julia was not on shift tonight.</p><p>The other ST300 had had more difficulty than Polly in coming to work at the DPD. It seemed like once a week, she was being sent to a technician for another diagnostic for spikes in her software instabilities and other anomalies in her system. While the other androids had returned to the DPD, Julia was a newcomer, originally working at Stratford Tower. She didn’t like to talk about her time there, but it had created a strong mistrust toward Connor.</p><p>She said that she had been exposed to months of news coverage at the media company, much of which surrounded Cyberlife’s crown jewel Deviant Hunter. How effective he was at tracking deviants. How efficient he was at taking them down, no matter how they ran and fought and pleaded for mercy. How unshakeable he was in his missions. One simply didn’t get inundated with those stories for months and come out willing to give him a chance just because of one or two stories of his pro-deviant actions the night of the revolution. So she largely avoided being in the same room with him whenever possible; so it was probably fortunate that she wasn’t here tonight, since it was the rare shift that Connor was working in the bullpen most of the day, instead of being called out on cases.</p><p>Polly wasn’t quite so anti-Connor as Julia was. He wasn’t unfriendly, though at times there seemed to be a sort of calculated politeness to his words. Like his system was supplying prompts and methods to try and win the trust of whoever he was speaking to. It felt…slightly manipulative at times, but maybe he had been designed that way.</p><p>Either way, Polly didn’t have the energy nowadays to hold a grudge. She was doing well enough to have the energy to just make it through her regular shift.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 31 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>Tonight, unlike most nights, was also Christmas Day. So even more of the human staff and officers had requested time off to be with their families. Androids didn’t have families, so the station was leaning on them even more to keep things running. Polly had seen Lieutenant Anderson, Captain Fowler, Detective Reed, and Officer Person in the bullpen, but everyone else seemed to have cleared out. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered her, because nothing used to bother her, but tonight…tonight that bothered her.</p><p>It was her first holiday season as a deviant. Her first Christmas being alive and feeling all the emotions that the holiday season invoked among humans. All those warm, cheerful commercials hit differently now. The colorful decorations and songs on the radio were almost overwhelming now. Even just…snow…watching it snow…could almost make her cry for how beautiful it was.</p><p>But no. She was here. At work. Because she didn’t have a family, so why would she need or want to enjoy this holiday season? The city was barely beginning to fathom the idea of androids as living beings, and there was always an unspoken “but” after it.</p><p>Androids are alive, but…</p><p>Her low power warning pushed a little harder across her HUD, and she grimaced, closing her eyes and squinting to force it to clear.</p><p>Humans weren’t the only ones around here that were exhausted, but they were the only ones who seemed to be getting any slack, any rest, any understanding for the need for reprieve.</p><p>“Changing of the guard,” came a chiming voice.</p><p>Polly blinked again, turning to see one of the patrol androids, a PC200 named Zeke, smiling at her.</p><p>“Thank goodness,” she sighed, straightening up in her seat. “You sure you don’t mind?”</p><p>“Nah.” He waved a dismissive hand and pointed finger guns at her. “I’m fresh off my break and don’t have patrols for another four hours. I’m good.”</p><p>Polly snorted and laboriously climbed out of her chair, putting a steadying hand on the desk as she stood up. Zeke’s smile turned a little concerned as she visibly struggled, and he stood close by.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yep,” she chirped with a tired nod. “Just…overdue for a break.”</p><p>Zeke didn’t look entirely convinced, but he respected the brave face that she was putting on by not calling her out for it.</p><p>“Gotcha,” he conceded, sliding into her vacated seat. Trying to lift her spirits, he waggled his eyebrows as he settled into the seat. “Ooh, thank you for warming it up for me.”</p><p>Polly chuckled and rallied herself to lumber into the bullpen. “See you in a half hour.”</p><p>“Yup.” He saluted, swiveling the chair around to face to entryway.</p><p>Now with a half hour break ahead of her, Polly stepped away from the reception desk and passed through the glass doors into the bullpen.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 30 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>A half hour wasn’t going to be long enough.</p><p>Feeling heavy just thinking about it, Polly kept close to the wall as she walked through the bullpen toward the file room. Person and Anderson were the only ones in the bullpen at the moment. Reed and Connor weren’t in sight, and the other PC200, Apollo, as well as the PM700 named Gwen were out on patrol. She didn’t have the energy to wonder any more about their whereabouts, thinking only for her portable charging box that she had stashed in the file room.</p><p>Neither of the officers looked up as she stealthily made her way past them, and she preferred it that way. She reached the file room door and slipped inside, closing the door and nearly stumbling against the wall as low power started to nag at her system.</p><p>“Crap,” she mumbled, keeping a guiding hand on the row of filing cabinets against the wall as she made her way down to the other end of the room.</p><p>The door leading down to the evidence room was on her right, and on her left was a fake potted plant that filled the awkward empty space between the last filing cabinet and the wall. Behind the potted plant, she had stashed her portable charging brick. It was half the size of a car battery, and she had taken to keeping it here plugged into the wall at all times, so that when she needed a recharge and Julia wasn’t available, it was here and ready as a backup.</p><p>Half an hour of charging might get her…to about fifty percent if she plugged in immediately, she thought, pushing the thick plant leaves aside and reaching for the box. She grasped the side of it and started to lift the dark grey brick, only to immediately freeze.</p><p>The tiny button on the top corner of the brick, which should have been bright green indicating that it was fully charged, was dark.</p><p>“No,” she muttered, as if simply willing it would make the thing light up.</p><p>She gave it a shake, but the light stayed dark.</p><p>“No,” she repeated, pulling the brick completely free from behind the plant.</p><p>As it came, so did the power cable, along with the end of the power cable…which she had apparently forgotten to plug back into the wall after her last charging session.</p><p>“No, no, no…shit,” she hissed, grabbing the plugin on the end of the cable.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 29 percent. Rest cycle recom—</em>
</p><p>She blinked angrily to dismiss the warning, straightening up and helplessly staring at the dead portable charger in her hands.</p><p>She couldn’t finish her shift with the charge that she had left. Even if she plugged this thing in right now and immediately tried to charge off of it…No, that wouldn’t work either...Her only options were to use the standing charge stations in the bullpen, to go to the precinct technician’s office and use the charging equipment there, or to go home for the day to recharge at home.</p><p>There was no way that she was going to use the standing stations in the bullpen. It felt too much like being on display or being ‘parked’ like they used to do with non-deviant androids. It also felt like she’d be broadcasting to the entire squad: “Hey! Look at me! I’m broken!”</p><p>Similarly, she didn’t want to go to the technician’s office. She’d had her fill of facilities and technician offices and repair bays to last her a lifetime. She didn’t want to feel like a patient again. She just…She just wanted…</p><p>Maybe she just needed to go home.</p><p>Polly groaned and hung her head in defeat. With a sigh, she knelt down and purposefully plugged the charger into the wall, then tucked it back into its covert hiding place behind the plant. Just as she was fluffing the leaves to make it look less conspicuous, the file room door opened, and she froze like a deer in the headlights.</p><p>There stood Connor, looking equally uncomfortable at walking in on her.</p><p>“Polly?”</p><p>Polly stared back at him. The random advice from the old movie Jurassic Park came to her mind. Maybe if she didn’t move, he couldn’t see her.</p><p>Then rational thought returned.</p><p>“…Yeah,” she grunted in a return greeting, straightening up and trying to play it casual. “Hey, uh, you. What’s, uh…what’s shakin’?”</p><p>
  <em>Power level 28 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>Connor tilted his head curiously at her, and she anxiously dismissed the prompt again.</p><p>Was he scanning her? Could he read her system? Did he know that something was wrong with her? Would he report her for being…defective? Was this it?</p><p>“Are you all right?” he asked.</p><p>“Psssh!” she huffed through her lips, waving a hand at him. “I’m…I’m groovy, baby!”</p><p>What…the Hell? She inwardly chastised herself. Be normal! He’s getting suspicious!</p><p>Connor’s eyebrow seemed to raise in direct correlation to his suspicion levels.</p><p>“What are you doing? You’re behaving strangely.”</p><p>Polly tried to think fast, but her low power level was making things start to feel foggy. That was usually a warning sign.</p><p>“I’m…uh…”</p><p>She reached for the handle on the top drawer of the nearest filing cabinet, to mimic working, but she missed and stumbled. Her balance was sluggish to recalibrate, and she very nearly went to the floor. She managed to recover, but not without knowing that the gig was up.</p><p>Connor took a concerned step toward her, but stopped himself from coming too close. The androids at the 07 had made it clear that his presence was only barely tolerated, and that he shouldn’t push his luck by getting too close to them.</p><p>“My…power levels are low,” she confessed with a grimace.</p><p>Connor blinked at her, and his expression turned somewhat relieved over what he probably saw as a simple problem. That quickly changed as he noted her not simple reaction to the problem, and he glanced to the plant and…yep, now he was scanning.</p><p>“You’ve…been hiding a charger here? Why?” Then he was turning those scanning eyes on her person.</p><p>“Don’t scan me!” she snapped.</p><p>He blinked again, abruptly casting his eyes away from her to the wall. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Just…leave me alone and…don’t…don’t tell anybody about this,” she said sternly, folding her arms over her chest.</p><p>Connor idled for a beat, then carefully looked at her again. She tensed, but it didn’t feel like he was scanning her.</p><p>“If you need to recharge, there are charging stations—“</p><p>“I’m not using those!”</p><p>“…Then the technician’s office has—“</p><p>“I’m not going there!” she argued, feeling angry tears burning behind her eyes.</p><p>Humiliation was creeping up and making her neck hot, and she flexed her jaw to hold it at bay.</p><p>“Leave me alone, Connor. I…I appreciate you trying to help but…you can help me by going away and not saying anything…Okay?” she finished, hating the pleading tone that slipped into her voice.</p><p>Connor looked wrongfooted, but he quickly nodded and took a placating step backward. “Okay.”</p><p>She stared at him as he made an awkward retreat.</p><p>Okay? Just like that? That was it?</p><p>Then he cracked open the door and slipped out, leaving her alone…as she had requested.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 27 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>She closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over them, and the moisture collecting in her eyes wet her palms. She cursed under her breath and rolled her shoulders to get rid of this feeling.</p><p>He was going to turn her in. She just knew it. He was going straight to Fowler to report her, and she…and she was going to the scrapyard. Wilson had already gotten other technicians to look at her, and the result was always the same. This was not the kind of damage that they could fix without…without basically pulling her apart and putting her back together again with all new parts…And by the time they did that, who knew if she would even still be her?</p><p>Anxiety made her itch all over, and she wiped furiously at her eyes again, exhaling heavily.</p><p>The filing room started to feel like it was shrinking around her, and she cursed again.</p><p>She looked down at her portable charger. The brick was where she had left it, but now the light was on, showing that it was, in fact, charging. The little bulb was red…useless to her in this moment.</p><p>She would just have to go home then. Wilson wouldn’t let them deactivate her and throw her away…unless he agreed that she was becoming a burden…Oh no…Oh shit, oh no no no…</p><p>She flapped her hands at her sides helplessly, unable to think of a solution to the increasingly threatening problems that her mind was creating.</p><p>What could she do now?</p><p>The door clicked open again, and she snapped back to attention, looking over to see…Connor again?</p><p>She stood still, and he didn’t waste time, making a casual ‘come here’ gesture.</p><p>“I think I’ve found a solution,” he offered. “Let me show you.”</p><p>If this was a joke, then it was very cruel, and her hackles started to rise.</p><p>“What is it?” she asked untrustingly.</p><p>He gestured again. “It’s better than hiding in here to recharge, I promise.”</p><p>They both seemed to register that she did not trust a promise from him, and he deflated slightly.</p><p>“It’s…” He looked something close to self conscious as he explained. “I dismantled one of the android parking stations in the bullpen and used the charging components to approximate a new charger. I’ve placed it in the officers’ locker room; I thought it would be more comfortable than…here.”</p><p>She stayed where she was, digesting that.</p><p>“You…what?” She tilted her head at him. “You mean you’re not…I’m not in trouble?”</p><p>He stared at her. “No? Of course not? Why would…”</p><p>He trailed away as the situation fully dawned on him, and his shoulders fell with his face.</p><p>He looked…like he genuinely felt bad.</p><p>Polly shifted on her feet, feeling the pull of low power mode starting to nag at her in earnest.</p><p>“I’m not…allowed in the officers’ locker rooms,” she said, adding, “Even you barely are.”</p><p>Connor snorted, cracking a tiny, lopsided grin. “Maybe, but I have a solution.” He opened the door just a smidge farther in invitation. “Please?”</p><p>How much of a choice did she have?</p><p>Still, it wasn’t with a belly full of dread that Polly gave in, gingerly crossing the file room toward him. Connor backed out, holding the door for her, and he kept his distance as he led her to the other side of the bullpen, to the door to the officers’ locker room.</p><p>“I’ve observed a nonverbal agreement with this squad,” he remarked, opening the door and leading her inside. “Whenever one of the human officers is struggling, having a bad day, or needing a moment alone, they have developed the habit of placing a strip of red tape on the door.”</p><p>He held up a roll of simple red electrical tape to show her.</p><p>“It appears to warn the others that the locker room is temporarily off limits, and out of courtesy, they avoid going inside so as to give their colleague some privacy to collect themselves.”</p><p>Polly shuffled into the locker room, mercifully finding it empty. The room was…well, a locker room. Grey walls, grey floors, grey ceilings. Rows of blue lockers with plain benches in between, anchored to the floor. Shower stalls blocked off the far end, and a few wall mounted sinks and mirrors lined the wall next to them. Between two metallic, freestanding closets was a sturdy, brown, three seater couch. The cushions, arm rests, and back padding were all in various states of compressed and flattened from years of use, but it was clean and well maintained. Just old and worn. A blue paisley print pillow was draped over one arm rest, clashing horribly but looking equally broken in.</p><p>Beside the couch was a plastic tub, acting as a side table, on top of which could only be what Connor had created out of the charging station components.</p><p>It looked more like an old timey homemade bomb than a portable charger, but she recognized enough of its mechanics to see it for what it was.</p><p>Behind her, Connor pulled out a strip of the red tape, flattening it on the outside of the locker room door.</p><p>While he was doing that, Polly crept a little closer to the couch and the charger.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 26 percent. Rest cycle recommended.</em>
</p><p>The old suspicion flared up again.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?” she asked, folding her arms and facing him once more.</p><p>Connor let the locker room door shut, placing the roll of red tape back over the door knob in its usual place.</p><p>“Because you need it,” he stated simply, lifting his shoulders. “I’m merely…implementing the same methods that our colleagues use to assist each other. You need to recharge.” He gestured toward the couch. “So…you can do that here without…hiding or worrying about someone walking in on you.”</p><p>Polly felt her suspicion fading, but she remained defensive.</p><p>Connor sighed and started to leave. “Do what you will.”</p><p>Polly fidgeted and then slowly sat down on the center cushion of the couch. She eyed the makeshift charger and reached out, tentatively prodding at it.</p><p>“Thank you,” she blurted.</p><p>Connor paused in the doorway, looking just as startled to hear it as she felt startled to say it.</p><p>He looked over at her and offered a timidly hopeful smile.</p><p>“You’re welcome, Polly.”</p><p>She shakily returned the small smile. She reciprocated his proverbial olive branch by tugging the charger closer to the couch and turning it on. The little box hummed as it chugged to life, and she turned it so that the charging transmitter nodes were aimed in her direction. Fortunately, the standing charge stations operated wirelessly, so she didn’t have to actually “plug” herself in to it to receive the charge. She just had to be within its transmitting range.</p><p>She immediately felt the first pulse of the energy charge reach her system, and she involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>
  <em>Power level 26 percent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Charging.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Power level 27 percent.</em>
</p><p>She checked her internal clock and felt a pang of disappointment. There were only about ten minutes left to her break, and she was only now getting any kind of relief.</p><p>“I spoke with Zeke,” Connor stated, as if sensing her new plight. “He agreed to ‘hold down the fort’ at the front desk for another hour, in order to give you adequate time to recharge. If he gets called away, I’ll fill in for the remaining time.”</p><p>Polly eyed him, then decided…what the Hell? Might as well go with this.</p><p>She pulled her legs up onto the couch and carefully reclined across it, using the pillow on the armrest. The couch was lumpy and far from comfortable, but it was worlds better than the hard surfaces of the file room.</p><p>“I also have a blanket if you’re…chilly,” he offered further.</p><p>At this point…why not?</p><p>She shrugged. “Okay, yeah, I…guess it’s…kinda chilly in here.”</p><p>Connor practically bounced on his feet to the locker that was designated as his, and he pulled it open, tugging out a simple blue fleece blanket. He shook it out, then held it toward her in offering.</p><p>“I…don’t like the cold,” he said by way of an explanation. “Hank suggested that I keep something like this on hand.”</p><p>Well now…that was almost adorable…If the reformed Deviant Hunter could be described with such a word.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, taking it. She looked down at it, then frowned in confusion at the scattering of stray hairs all over it.</p><p>“It’s one of Hank’s blankets,” Connor hastily explained. “He has a dog. Dog hair tends to…cling to everything in his house. I’m sorry. If you want something else, I can—“</p><p>“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off. “I think I’ll survive a little dog hair on a blanket…Thank you.”</p><p>Connor relaxed a little, wringing his wrists behind his back, as if she didn’t notice.</p><p>“Well, I…I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, drifting over toward the doorway.</p><p>Polly watched him go, situating herself a little more comfortably on the couch cushions.</p><p>“Connor?”</p><p>“Yes?” he asked, hand hesitating on the door knob.</p><p>She hesitated, then pushed on. “Merry Christmas.”</p><p>Connor’s face brightened a little at that, and he smiled more genuinely than she had ever seen from the RK800.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Polly.”</p><p>“And…thank you,” she added. “You’re not...I guess I thought you’d be…” she gestured vaguely but none of the words coming to mind sounded right. She tried again. “You’re…okay.”</p><p>Connor visibly stood a little straighter at the barest form of a compliment, and he looked a little sheepishly hopeful.</p><p>“I appreciate you saying that. Thank you for trusting me. I hope…” he paused. “I hope you and the others can give me a second chance one day. I’d like to get to know you all, possibly even be friends.”</p><p>Polly exhaled dramatically, fluffing the blanket out over her legs.</p><p>“That might take some work,” she remarked playfully, then smiled at him. “I’ll see what I can do.”</p><p>Connor awkwardly shifted, clearly ecstatic about that and simultaneously trying to downplay it.</p><p>“Great, thank you. That’s…cool,” he managed. “Um…anyway…enjoy your break.”</p><p>Then he was gone, and Polly had the entire locker room to herself.</p><p>She stared at the doorway where he had just been, and she settled down further into the cushions. She folded her arms over the blanket, brushing away a few of the dog hairs, and she thoughtfully tapped one finger against her arm.</p><p>Maybe…Maybe it was time they gave him another chance.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. January</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Apollo is a PC200 who attributes his longevity at the DPD to being reliable and staying off the radar of his human officers. But when his superior officer’s order conflicts with what he knows is the correct thing to do, he is compelled to speak up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first holiday season since the android revolution passed in a sort of consistent chaos that became almost monotonous after a while. Anti-android protests and riots would come and go, and the city law enforcement continued to hone its response to the violence. Pro-android counter-protesters were gaining more traction within Detroit as well, and by the time the new year arrived, all precincts inside the DPD were worn thin and stretched thinner.</p>
<p>Christmas and New Year’s had gone, and they had taken with them all the colorful decorations, all the garland and glitter, all the merry songs and spirited parties, all the positive bustle that had somewhat counteracted all the negativity and agitation swamping the streets. Yet the cold of the winter season remained, hanging over Detroit in a smothering blanket of grey.</p>
<p>A brief warm spell had moved through at mid-month, melting enough of the snow to turn everything into slush and mud. Rain and sleet had come in spurts after that, and the constant damp had further…well…further dampened the moods and morale of the officers at the DPD.</p>
<p>But crime continued, and on this particularly bitter cold afternoon, a band of officers from the 07 excised a festering pocket of said crime, which had been holed up in a drug den on the west side of the city.</p>
<p>The misty, cloying rain had not deterred a small crowd of locals from forming outside the holographic police tape roping off the property. Squad cars with flashing red and blue lights manned the perimeter as well, along with two vans from the city’s Animal Control unit. The property was a decrepit two story house with a full basement and a large connected garage. The entire structure should have been marked as condemned, and the DPD had busted a Red Ice lab growing inside. Junkies and cooks had scattered when the police showed up, but at least two had armed themselves and been prepared to go down with the ship. Officers Chen and Wilson had taken them down, and the perpetrators had been arrested and carted away in ambulances already.</p>
<p>What had been left behind was a soggy, rancid, abandoned building full of Red Ice fumes, several thousand dollars in various other contraband, and two vans’ worth of dogs, found in kennels inside in what was apparently a dogfighting ring.</p>
<p>The highest ranked officer on site, Sergeant David Hicks, had made his orders expressly clear: the androids were to hold the perimeter and keep the public out. Do not step foot on the property. Do not interfere with the investigation. Do not bother the ‘real cops’ that were there processing the crime scene. They were generally the same orders that the PC200s and PM700s had become accustomed to following in the pre-revolution days, and so those orders should have been easy to follow now.</p>
<p>Then what was this…unpleasant, twisting feeling?</p>
<p>The senior PC200 of the 07, named Apollo, obediently held his post, arms folded behind his back, facing away from the crime scene, staring blankly at the small group of humans that had come curiously to watch the police handle the crime scene. So far, no one was pushing the holographic police tape boundary, but he was prepared, as always, to handle them if they did.</p>
<p>The damp air was collecting in beads and heavy wet patches on his jacket and cap, and DPD patrol android clothing had not been designed to protect against the elements. They were more or less purely to identify androids as police equipment. So, after hours of standing in the misty drizzle, Apollo could feel the wet cold making his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. The other patrol androids maintaining the perimeter were occasionally shifting and adjusting themselves, betraying that they too felt the cloying, bitter cold.</p>
<p>Apollo made no such show of shifting and adjusting. He remained as he had been ordered to remain. If asked, he might have attributed his longevity at the DPD to his ability to stand still and be silent. He was adept at staying out of the way of the human officers and doing his job effectively. Revolution or no revolution, he had no intention of betraying his record now. So long as he continued to follow orders and not be a hindrance, then they had no reason to think twice about him.</p>
<p>There was value in being unnoticed. Safety in anonymity. His peers might have longed for positive attention for their work performance, but he much preferred to remain as anonymous as possible in their midst. So long as his efficiency allowed him to be ignored, then they would never have reason to get rid of him. He was comfortable with that arrangement.</p>
<p>Unlike some…</p>
<p>“Sergeant Hicks, I am aware that you are the primary on this case, and I am not trying to step on your toes. However, due to the volume of Red Ice and Red Ice components located inside this building, it is a reasonable assumption that the drug cooks were keeping live androids hostage as a thirium source,” Connor was arguing.</p>
<p>Sergeant Hicks folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I already kinda figured that out, Inspector Gadget.”</p>
<p>The two were standing near the front entrance of the property, outside the range of human earshot, but their voices were perfectly clear to Apollo and the patrol androids holding the line. Unlike the patrol androids, Connor was wearing a proper DPD rain jacket with what appeared to be plenty of insulation inside. Despite that, he was exhibiting the same level of…crankiness…at the wet and the cold that Apollo’s peers were showing.</p>
<p>The RK800 had certainly muscled his way onto the scene with much to say. Apollo had heard his colleague, a PM700 named Gwen, muttering about where the RK800 found the gall to be so demanding and confrontational toward human officers like Hicks. Not that Gwen or even Apollo himself didn’t sometimes wish that they could, but…the RK800 could somehow get away with such behavior.</p>
<p>Apollo didn’t wonder about where the ‘gall’ came from. Connor had managed to get himself Lieutenant Anderson’s approval and therefore his protection. So he could afford to be this way.</p>
<p>Apollo kept his jaw clenched and his eyes ahead in a carefully constructed expression of perfect professionalism. To each their own.</p>
<p>“Yet neither you nor your team have conducted even a preliminary scan for android vital signs in the area,” Connor was going on.</p>
<p>“We gave the place a walkthrough, and nothing in there is moving besides a few canines,” Hicks said dismissively. “Right now we’ve got more important matters to deal with than a couple of busted plastics.”</p>
<p>“Our job—YOUR job—is to serve this city and protect lives,” Connor snarled, pointing at the building. “Can you say that there are no android lives that need assistance in there?”</p>
<p>Hicks scoffed, “You want to go in there and play rescue dog? Go ahead. We’ve got bigger issues right now.”</p>
<p>“Like what?”</p>
<p>“Like this.” Apollo didn’t turn, keeping his back to the scene so that he couldn’t see what Hicks was showing to Connor. Hicks went on. “Looks like some new brand of Red Ice. Never seen it this color before—gah! What the fuck are you doing?”</p>
<p>“I’m analyzing a sample of the powder.”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ…You’re disgusting.”</p>
<p>“This has the same chemical makeup of similar Red Ice found throughout the city. It…There is something different about it though.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit, it’s purple.”</p>
<p>“There could be a new Red Ice cook operating inside Detroit.”</p>
<p>“Maybe. I’ll tap some of my contacts and see if they’ve heard anything.”</p>
<p>More barking erupted from the condemned building.</p>
<p>“How…many more animals need to be evacuated?” Connor asked, and his tone had distinctly shifted.</p>
<p>Apollo blinked and involuntarily glanced to his right, where Gwen was holding her position. She had turned her head to look back at the RK800 in curiosity. Her eyes scanned back over to Apollo, and she raised an eyebrow in confusion.</p>
<p>In the months since the revolution that Connor had been working at the 07 again, he had only come across to any of the android staff as either professionally polite or so overly friendly that it felt fake. They all had software designed to recognize emotional manipulation tactics among perpetrators and to diffuse the genuine emotional distress of victims. But Connor was difficult to pinpoint. Maybe he was simply that good at deception. Somehow he had convinced Polly that he was capable of true empathy and compassion, and she was not easily fooled.</p>
<p>It was a moot line of thought, Apollo concluded, as in this situation, feigning concern and upset over dogs’ wellbeing wouldn’t work in his favor. Sergeant Hicks was, in Apollo’s assessment, worse than Detective Reed in his closed mind and bad attitude. Apollo had witnessed Reed at the very least showing concern for the innocent.</p>
<p>“We’re just down to two in there. One’s got a bad leg, and his buddy is all aggressive and defensive around him. We’re waiting on Animal Control to send in some backup,” Hicks replied. “What—Where are you going?”</p>
<p>“I can distract the aggressive dog, and your officers can extract the injured one.”</p>
<p>“He’ll rip your pretty face clean off, bucko,” Hicks said, with a tone less suggesting of concern and more dark humor.</p>
<p>“I was designed to withstand worse. Please, Sergeant.”</p>
<p>Wherever the conversation went from there, Apollo stopped paying attention. Instead, in the process of turning his gaze to meet Gwen’s, his optical units had caught onto a disturbance in the dirt on the front yard of the property. He stilled, narrowing his eyes to zero in on it further.</p>
<p>The yard was more of a patch of dirt with a few stray clumps of wilted green sticking out of it. Various footprints with various shoe treads over the past few hours had trampled much of it, and the incessant misting rain was turning it soggy and squishy. Still, that didn’t dilute the distinct spatter of dark red that freckled the dirt off to the side of the yard.</p>
<p>It looked alarmingly like blood. The confrontation between the perps and the officers had been on the opposite side of the property, and the blood was only just beginning to darken as it dried. Several unknown perps had fled the scene when the DPD arrived. It could have belonged to any of them.</p>
<p>A lone bead of rain ran across the rim of his police cap, dripping off to land on his collar.</p>
<p>Apollo frowned and tilted his head back just enough to note the increasing precipitation.</p>
<p>At the rate that they were processing the main scene of the crime, and at the rate that the rain was picking up, this evidence would not be properly found and catalogued before the rain washed it away into the muddy slush.</p>
<p>He had to say something.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Current orders: Maintain Perimeter. Stand Still. Be Silent.</strong>
</p>
<p>His hands remained clasped behind his back, and he turned slightly away from the holographic tape, looking back toward the crime scene. He rarely broke protocol even this much: turning to look at what the human officers were doing. It simply wasn’t his place, and his orders were clear.</p>
<p>However, if the prime directive at the root of all DPD orders was the solving of crimes, the delivering of justice, and the preservation of the peace…then his order to stand still and be silent was not…correct…here.</p>
<p>One of his hands trembled slightly, and he used his other hand to lock it down, pressing both clasped hands against his back.</p>
<p>He had to say something. At the very least.</p>
<p>He glanced around at the other officers. Connor was nowhere in sight, presumably gone inside to rescue one of the remaining dogs. Sergeant Hicks was by the door, discussing something with Officer Ben Collins, who was nodding and quickly entering data into his tablet.</p>
<p>Apollo caught Gwen’s eye again. She had surely never seen him fidget this much, and it was throwing her off. He reconstructed his default blank expression, steeled himself, and then completely turned around, facing the crime scene fully.</p>
<p>“Sergeant Hicks,” he called out clearly.</p>
<p>Hicks glanced over at hearing his name, as did Officer Collins. Hicks’ gaze distinctly moved right across the line of patrol androids at the holographic tape, shrugged, and went back to speaking to Collins.</p>
<p>Apollo frowned, paused, then tried again.</p>
<p>“Sergeant Hicks, sir?” he called out more loudly this time.</p>
<p>Hicks heaved a sigh and turned, glancing around before this time noticing Apollo, if only because he was the only patrol android not following protocol. Hicks glared at him singularly, and Apollo kept his hands clasped tightly against his back. He felt one cold drop of rain hit the back of his neck and snake its way down his back like sweat.</p>
<p>“What?” Hicks barked, putting his hands on his hips and giving Apollo his full attention.</p>
<p>Apollo straightened his posture, breaking one of his hands free behind him and gesturing toward the blood. He hesitated to call out his findings, wary of the public crowd and arriving journalists always eager for a scoop.</p>
<p>Hicks followed his gesture with his eyes, saw nothing, and scoffed, giving Apollo a curt swing of the hand, indicating that he turn back around and mind his post. Conversation over, Hicks drifted back towards Collins.</p>
<p>Apollo, however, remained as he was.</p>
<p>“Sir…” He took a step forward. “Sergeant Hicks, I apologize, but may I speak to you?”</p>
<p>“You may not,” Hicks barked over without looking up.</p>
<p>Collins frowned at him, glanced at Apollo, then looked back to Hicks. “Hey…I’ve never known Apollo to speak up unless it was important. Give him a listen?”</p>
<p>Hicks gave Collins an incredulous look, then when Collins gave him a shrug, Hicks rolled his eyes and took a few steps aside, looking at Apollo again.</p>
<p>“What is it?” he asked in a beleaguered tone.</p>
<p>Apollo shifted on his feet, his thoughts abruptly tinted with static.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Stand still. Be silent.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Stand still. Be silent.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Stand still. Be—</strong>
</p>
<p>“Are you having a malfunction?” Hicks snapped. “Spit it out already!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, sir,” Apollo ground out. “But there’s—“</p>
<p>He started to gesture again, when more barking and additional commotion sounded inside the property building. Hicks and Collins both bolted toward the door, just as another Animal Control van rolled onto the scene. Another PC200 named Zeke let the vehicle past, and then Connor was emerging from the inside of the condemned structure. He was carrying an adult dog in his arms, and the dog was struggling and yelping at the chaos. The louder, more aggressive barking remained inside the building.</p>
<p>“Holy shit!” Hicks snapped. “What the fuck did you do, plastic?!”</p>
<p>Apollo flinched, but Connor, whom the scolding was directed toward, was unfazed, delivering the injured dog directly to the professional jumping out of the Animal Control van. The left arm of his jacket was in tatters and there was mud and grime coating the knees of his pants, but he appeared to be unharmed.</p>
<p>“Front leg appears to be broken, and I believe he is malnourished, but…I think he’s okay,” Connor rambled slightly.</p>
<p>Behind Apollo, he heard Gwen mutter under her breath, “Now I really have seen everything. Apollo breaking a rule and the Deviant Hunter giving a shit about anybody.”</p>
<p>The excitement of the rescue dampened as the injured dog was taken for treatment, leaving only one angry animal left to rescue. Connor looked eager to accept that next mission, and Hicks was summarily distracted by that.</p>
<p>Apollo frowned and looked over at the bloody marks on the ground again. The rain was picking up.</p>
<p>“Sergeant—“ he started.</p>
<p>Hicks pointed a threatening finger at him. “Shut up. Get back in line. I’ll deal with you later, after I deal with this dipshit—Connor!” He stomped after the RK800.</p>
<p>Apollo watched him go, a twisting, coiling feeling filling his torso.</p>
<p>Shit.</p>
<p>He looked over at the blood, at Hicks heading after Connor, and back to the blood.</p>
<p>Apollo was a PC200. He was equipped with standard combat skills and de-escalation protocols. His model was designed to patrol and perform basic tasks for the police force. He did not have the RK800’s forensic analysis hardware and software or his advanced detective skills. But…he could take pictures of the stains at least. He could capture enough detailed imagery of them for Connor or the other detectives to use in their investigation. He could catalogue this evidence…It went against his explicit orders…but it was all in the service of closing this case. Perhaps he could even try to preserve the sample…at least he could try…</p>
<p>With that in mind, Apollo took another step out of line.</p>
<p>When the world didn’t crash down around him, he took another and another, until he was walking at a stilted pace toward the freckling blood spatter on the dirt. The rain was already diluting it somewhat, and he rapidly began to blink, capturing digital imagery of the spatter pattern and any other details around the site.</p>
<p>Perhaps if he could procure—</p>
<p>“HEY!” Hicks boomed. “WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY?”</p>
<p>Apollo straightened up to see Hicks beelining toward him, his face red and his eyes bulging in anger.</p>
<p>“I am documenting—“</p>
<p>Hicks’ hand came up, popping Apollo across the jaw. The strike was not enough to damage, but it was enough to make his teeth clatter together. It got his message across, and Apollo closed his mouth, not speaking further.</p>
<p>“I ordered you to keep to your post and keep your mouth shut. You got some wiring loose, you sack of plastic shit?!” Hicks snarled loudly enough for the other human officers, the other patrol androids, and the nearby crowd of humans to hear.</p>
<p>Apollo remained mute, eyes on Hicks’ badge on his breast pocket rather than his eyes.</p>
<p>“You think just because you guys are all ‘deviant’ and shit now, that any of us give a DAMN? You are not a cop. Don’t go getting a big head and pretending that you are just because the higher ups say so. Now get back to your post!”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey. Hey!” Collins hustled after Hicks, pulling up behind the sergeant. He tapped his elbow. “Chill out, David, the others are holding the perimeter just fine.”</p>
<p>“This one’s been defying my orders all night!”</p>
<p>“Twice,” Collins corrected, looking to Apollo calmly. “What’s going on, bud?”</p>
<p>Apollo’s jaw had locked itself shut, and he mutely stared back at Collins. His hands clasped behind his back again, clenching together hard to keep from trembling at all of this unwanted attention.</p>
<p>He was just trying to do the correct thing…</p>
<p>“He asked you a question,” Hicks snapped, despite Collins raising a hand toward the sergeant to quiet him. “Defective piece of shit—“</p>
<p>Hicks made to shove his elbow into Apollo’s chest, and Apollo braced for the harmless but blunt blow. Except it never came.</p>
<p>Connor appeared as though summoned, and his hand grabbed Hicks’ elbow, stopping his momentum entirely.</p>
<p>“Back off,” Connor snapped curtly, shoving Hicks’ away by the elbow.</p>
<p>Hicks stumbled once, and now Apollo could see a vein pushing against the skin of the man’s neck in rage.</p>
<p>“You son of a—“</p>
<p>“Officer Collins, can you remove him?” Connor asked sternly, his eyes staying on Hicks. “He’s struck a fellow officer once with clear intention to repeat the assault.”</p>
<p>Collins looked tired, like he knew this was about to be a fight, but he nodded in agreement, grasping Hicks around the upper arm.</p>
<p>“C’mon, David, let’s take a walk and cool off.”</p>
<p>David shucked his arm, rounding on Apollo and Connor this time. He pointed threateningly.</p>
<p>“Bunch of defective machines—“</p>
<p>“You will not speak to a fellow officer this way, Sergeant,” Connor replied firmly but calmly. “If Officer Apollo has a concern at a crime scene, then he is well within his rights to do so, and in fact it is his duty to do so. Are you saying that you don’t want your fellow cops to perform their duties?”</p>
<p>Hicks snarled but didn’t articulate anything else.</p>
<p>Connor squared his shoulders at him, and Apollo didn’t miss the very subtle step that Connor took placing himself more directly between Apollo and the volatile sergeant.</p>
<p>“I will be filing a complaint with Captain Fowler about this unprofessional, unacceptable, and abhorrent behavior that you’ve displayed,” Connor said, loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.</p>
<p>Hicks realized this as well and curbed his physical struggling. He pointed at Connor again, looking distinctly at Apollo then back to Connor.</p>
<p>“You watch your ass, plastic.”</p>
<p>Connor sighed, tilting his head. “Sir, I just wrestled a 120 pound Rottweiler in an agitated state. You do not scare me.”</p>
<p>Collins snorted, then coughed to cover it, grasping Hicks by the elbow again.</p>
<p>“C’mon, let’s take that walk. Walks are nice. Walks are fun. C’mon.”</p>
<p>Hicks growled but relented, letting the older cop steer him away.</p>
<p>Apollo felt some of his tightly wound internal components in his chest unwind slightly with each step farther that the man took. The relief was short lived as embarrassment quickly overshadowed it, and he frowned, looking away.</p>
<p>Connor waited until the humans were out of earshot before turning back toward Apollo. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t need to do that,” Apollo said flatly.</p>
<p>Connor didn’t reply to that, though his brow remained knit with concern.</p>
<p>Apollo corrected his posture to stand at attention. Connor was a detective rank and therefore his superior officer. He had asked a question.</p>
<p>“I’m all right,” he answered.</p>
<p>Connor didn’t look entirely heartened by that answer, but he accepted it with a nod.</p>
<p>“What were you trying to tell Sergeant Hicks?” he asked.</p>
<p>The rain was coming harder by the minute, and it was becoming colder as it soaked through all of their clothing.</p>
<p>“I found blood,” Apollo replied, leading Connor back over to the stain. “The rain is already washing some of it away.”</p>
<p>Connor followed him to the spatter of red on the ground, but his expression remained drawn as he looked at the stains. Apollo stood aside out of the way, watching the RK800 as his optical units flashed, scanning the site of the spatter. He then knelt down and touched two fingertips to one of the larger stains. He tested the sample on his fingertips against his tongue, then nodded and straightened up, taking a napkin out of his jacket and wiping the remaining sample off of his hands.</p>
<p>“This isn’t blood,” he remarked.</p>
<p>Apollo balked, looking from Connor, to the stains, to Connor. “What?”</p>
<p>“It’s Red Ice in liquid form,” Connor replied, gesturing to the stains. “See how the edges were starting to cool and crystalize before the rain started?”</p>
<p>Apollo followed his gesture and noted the tiny fragments of crystals with a heavy, sinking feeling settling in his torso.</p>
<p>All of that…and he had been wrong.</p>
<p>Apollo’s shoulders sagged, and he looked around the crime scene again. The place was practically saturated in Red Ice powder and crystals and liquid. This one spatter just happened to be outside the rest of the mess. He had jeopardized himself…for nothing. Even more humiliating, he had done so in front of everyone, and Connor had even put himself in the proverbial line of fire to defend him…for nothing.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Apollo muttered, then straightened up, repeating himself more clearly. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Connor shook his head, stepping and aside and putting his hands in his pockets with a slight shiver from the cold. “No need for that.”</p>
<p>“I wasted everyone’s time—“</p>
<p>“No, you didn’t,” Connor affirmed. “This spatter is well outside the range of the other samples that I’ve located on the property. That is useful information that I’ll make sure is properly catalogued. It’s good that you brought it to our attention.”</p>
<p>Apollo stared at him.</p>
<p>No reprimand?</p>
<p>What was Connor’s motive here?</p>
<p>“You…Are you actually going to file that complaint?” he asked quietly. “Against Hicks?”</p>
<p>Connor finished scanning the rest of the yard around them, then looked to Apollo, tapping his own yellow LED. “I already did. I submitted it as soon as I concluded the sample was Red Ice.”</p>
<p>Apollo continued to stare at him.</p>
<p>Connor looked over to where Officer Collins was standing with Hicks near a squad car, well away from them. Then Connor noticed Apollo staring. So he stared back at him.</p>
<p>“What?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Why?” Apollo answered his question with a question.</p>
<p>Connor tilted his head. “Why what?”</p>
<p>“Why did you do any of that? Hicks was right: I defied his express orders, and I was wrong in my assessment of the evidence.”</p>
<p>“He was not right,” Connor said with a hard look. “He should not have struck you or humiliated you the way he did.”</p>
<p>“It was not the first time that something like this has happened to one of us patrol androids—“</p>
<p>“Well, it’s going to be the last, if I have any say in it,” Connor stated.</p>
<p>Apollo was dubious, but Connor seemed to be sincere…Apollo was almost inclined to believe him.</p>
<p>And yet…</p>
<p>“Why?” he was compelled to ask.</p>
<p>Connor frowned, eying him carefully. “Because you’re on my team. All of you are,” he said quietly, glancing subtly toward Zeke and Gwen before looking at Apollo again. “And no one is going to treat my team like that. I won’t tolerate it.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Eights!” another cop near the rundown building called over. “Connor! Your buddy is trying to bust loose again!”</p>
<p>Barking from the Rottweiler inside the house picked up again.</p>
<p>Connor sighed, pulling up his jacket collar against the rainy wind. “I’m coming,” he called back, then looked to Apollo. “Please inform me if any human officers continue to perpetuate this kind of workplace abuse. If you aren’t comfortable with reporting it yourselves, then I will do so on your behalf if you wish.”</p>
<p>Slightly stunned, Apollo nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Detective.”</p>
<p>“Connor,” Connor corrected. “Please.”</p>
<p>Apollo frowned at the informality of it, but he conceded. “Thank you, Connor.”</p>
<p>Connor’s expression brightened in a small smile, before he turned and hurried toward the other officers struggling to contain the large dog.</p>
<p>Apollo watched him go, blinked, and then somewhat awkwardly made his way back to his post on the perimeter line. He could feel Zeke and Gwen watching him, and he bristled at the attention. Zeke got the hint and looked elsewhere. Gwen blatantly continued to stare at him.</p>
<p>“What was that?” she asked in a low whisper. “Did he tear you a new asshole for breaking ranks against Hicks? I mean, personally, I applaud you for it, but what WAS that, Apollo?”</p>
<p>“He…defended me.”</p>
<p>“Shut. UP,” she squawked in disbelief.</p>
<p>“He did…Then he was kind to me.”</p>
<p>“Hmph.”</p>
<p>Apollo looked over at her. “I think he meant it.”</p>
<p>Gwen looked doubtful, but she shrugged and hunched her shoulders against the cold air.</p>
<p>“That’s not the kind of warm fuzzies that are gonna do me any kind of good right now.”</p>
<p>Zeke snorted, and Apollo shook his head in amusement.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. It’s all I can offer at the moment.”</p>
<p>Zeke leaned around Apollo. “I found some spare gloves in my pocket. They’re dry and warm!”</p>
<p>“Gimme,” Gwen started then, “Wait, why are they warm?”</p>
<p>“They were in my butt pocket.”</p>
<p>“…Nevermind. Keep ‘em.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. February</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zeke is a PC200 who, like many androids, has come to be wary of technicians. Unfortunately, he picked a bad time to damage his shoulder, and hoping it goes away on its own isn’t an option. Distracting himself from it can only work for so long.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Night shift would be starting soon.</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>Despite post-revolution Detroit making strides to adapt to the new paradigm, many places, including the DPD, were still struggling to strike the right balance of staffing. Before the revolution, androids were assigned round the clock shifts, since most models could run for days without requiring a recharge. While deviant androids were still physically capable of doing so, there was now emotional processing required and the toll that emotions took on a body during long shifts. For many, the expectation to run for days without rest was still the default, and it was a constant case of trial and error for both deviants and their employers to figure out how to schedule them.</p><p>The DPD had largely adopted the practice of androids working the same length of shifts as their human counterparts, and that had been working…somewhat. There was still a sort of expectation that if a human and an android both needed a break, then the human would get the break, or at least get the break first. So far, Captain Fowler had been receptive to equalizing the long held policy of bias in humans’ favors in order to be fairer toward androids. Even with his support though, it was still ongoing.</p><p>Employment policies for androids were still very much in the fledgling state at the DPD’s 7<sup>th</sup> precinct, but it was adapting more quickly than most institutions and businesses across the city out of desperate necessity for staff. The precinct had hired its first station technician since the revolution, after the last one had walked out after refusing to adhere to the new policies, such as referring to deviants as ‘patients’ rather than ‘equipment’ and the like. Plus the android staff had seen their first actual paycheck just last week. Sure, they couldn’t really have their own bank accounts yet…or credit cards…or any way to really manage their meager wages that wasn’t literally cold cash in hand, but…it was progress? Question mark?</p><p>An added complication for androids was that with deviancy had come not only feelings but the realization of the daily injustices that they had been enduring all their lives. Markus and Jericho were hard at work very publicly combating android abuse and fighting for android freedoms in broad, sweeping terms, which meant the blatant aggression that they had faced before was transforming more and more into micro-aggressions. Such as thirium not being as readily available as water or other human-grade beverages, and the conversations about equal pay usually included such wording as “well, androids don’t really need to make as much as humans, because you guys don’t really eat or sleep or NEED clothing and shelter.”</p><p>Suddenly, there was shame in asking for help. There was embarrassment and self consciousness in needing assistance. There was anger at being denied these basic rights. There was fear and hurt and occasionally such all-encompassing joy that they could almost drown in it.</p><p>Long story short, having feelings now was exhausting, and today more than most.</p><p>One of the PC200s at the 07, named Zeke, sat kicked back in Officer Wilson’s desk swivel chair, his feet propped on the visitor chair beside the desk. He was slouched back with his patrol cap pulled down over his face to block out the light of the bullpen. He had observed human officers dousing the lights in the locker room whenever they took naps in there. So far, he wasn’t finding it helpful as he tried to take a brief rest cycle while the bullpen was fairly quiet.</p><p>
  <em>Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.</em>
</p><p>For the third time in a row, his auditory sensors picked up on the sound of the protesting wheels of the 07’s dolly cart as it was pushed the entire length of the bullpen. He picked up on it again as it made the return trip, the wheels squeaking just as loudly.</p><p>“You sure you don’t want help?” he asked, not lifting his cap.</p><p>He was met with a huff and a hand smacking his boot.</p><p>“Funny that you ask that when I’m on my last trip.”</p><p>Zeke snorted and tipped his cap up, spying one of the ST300s, named Julia, pushing the empty dolly back toward the reception doors.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he asked.</p><p>“Shipment came in,” she answered, turning herself around to wheel backwards through the doors. “Winter gear for the patrol androids.”</p><p>“Oh?” Zeke perked up, pushing himself up in his chair and swinging his legs back down to the floor. Whatever his follow up comment was going to be, it died on his tongue for two reasons.</p><p>One: his shoulder joint creaked and the same error message that he had been getting for three days popped up in his HUD again. The discomfort had been slowly building there for a week now, and each time he overused that shoulder, he swore he could feel the gears and belts grinding against each other inside his casing.</p><p>He attributed it to a tumble down an entire flight of concrete stairs that he had taken while in pursuit of a shoplifter over the weekend. His diagnostic had already told him again and again that one of the structural components of his shoulder had been knocked out of alignment, and his healing program had been reminding him that the damage was outside its scope of ability to fix. The only solution was to either go to a technician to get the joint recalibrated…or see if he could convince Apollo to just dislocate and relocate his shoulder for him really quickly to see if that did the trick.</p><p>All things considered, he’d prefer someone he trusted like Apollo to forcibly realign his shoulder joint…rather than the new stranger in the technician’s office. Unfortunately, Apollo had so far refused, only stating that he needed the professional care of a technician, and ignoring that advice had not improved Zeke’s situation at all.</p><p>Fortunately, the second thing distracting him as he sat up was the massive bouquet of red roses on Detective Reed’s desk.</p><p>“Good heavens,” he tutted, speaking through his grimace as his shoulder protested. “Again?”</p><p>Julia had reappeared through the receptionist doors wheeling the dolly, freshly loaded with the last box of police winter gear for the androids, and she looked over at his comment.</p><p>“Yep, again,” she snorted, shaking her head as she pushed the dolly toward the storage locker on the other end of the bullpen. “Just like every year.”</p><p>Zeke stood up, cringing as he rotated his aching shoulder, and followed after her to help her unload. It was a gorgeous arrangement of deep red flowers, inserted in a black and silver speckled vase and tied with a creamy white ribbon. The expensive look of the bouquet was undercut by the very two dimensional, very cheaply designed, and very chubby baby Cupid on a plastic insert stick poking out of the top of the vase. The little cherub was winking with rosy cheeks and holding a bow and arrow, taking aim at the next victim, and looking like it had been bought at the nearest convenience store. An odd touch to such a classy floral arrangement.</p><p>Zeke glanced around, noting that Reed’s monitor was dark and his mug of coffee was no longer steaming. He must have been called away on a case or was on break or something. With a snort, Zeke reached over and plucked the cheap little plastic Cupid out of the vase and sauntered after Julia.</p><p>“Got any Valentine’s Day plans, Jules?” he asked, brandishing the little Cupid at her.</p><p>Julia gave him a flat look, then shrugged as she opened the storage room doors. “I do, actually.”</p><p>Zeke balked. “Really? What? With whom?”</p><p>“Just a PJ500 named Reese who works in the bookstore below my apartment,” she replied, clearly trying to sound casual about it.</p><p>“Oooh,” Zeke teased, reaching down to help her lift the first box. “Julia’s got a daaate.”</p><p>“Shut up,” she snorted, kneeling down to grasp the other end of the box. “I’m not looking to catch any feelings right now. Life is only barely starting to find a nice normal around here. But it’ll be fun at least, he’s a nice guy, and it beats spending this obnoxious holiday alone.”</p><p>“Yeah, alone. Sure wouldn’t that suck,” he snarked.</p><p>“Tch, sorry I’m cuter than you.”</p><p>“You take that back!”</p><p>They both lifted the box in unison, and Zeke grit his teeth as they swung the box to land on the stack of identical boxes of gear.</p><p>“Hey, you never know,” he pushed through the pain, brandishing the plastic cherub at her face. “Maybe Cupid will strike!”</p><p>He poked her with the arrow of the Cupid.</p><p>Julia rolled her eyes with a smirk. “I told you. I’m not looking—“</p><p>“Found you!” came a new voice.</p><p>Both Zeke and Julia swiveled on their heels to see the newcomer, who turned out to be Connor the RK800. Zeke involuntarily tensed, just like he did every time Connor showed up unexpectedly nearby. Despite Polly’s tentatively optimistic turn toward the RK800, and Zeke himself seeing how Connor had had Apollo’s back at the drug house last month…Zeke’s initial reaction was still suspicion—Well, maybe not suspicion, but…he wasn’t ever glad to see the guy.</p><p>Still, he managed to cover it with a polite smile, despite knowing full well that the RK800’s facial reading software had already pegged his initial reaction.</p><p>“Found who? Me?” he prompted.</p><p>Julia made a low scoff, turning to leave.</p><p>“Yes,” Connor confirmed with a similarly polite smile, approaching closer. “Hi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Hello, Julia.”</p><p>“Sure, yeah, hi,” Julia seemed to lean back away from him as far as was politely possible, but her body language had become all walled off. She pointed a thumb at Zeke. “You bellowed for him, not me?”</p><p>Connor’s smile dampened just a little at her tone, and his expression turned a little sheepish. “I…didn’t meant to ‘bellow,’ but…yes, I—“</p><p>“Well, the Hunter has caught his prey,” she remarked, winking at Zeke, “so if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”</p><p>With that, she departed, skirting around behind Zeke and taking the dolly, wheeling it toward the file room where she normally worked. Connor watched her go with a complicated look on his face. Zeke wasn’t as adept at reading expressions as the RK800 was, but he knew disappointment when he saw it.</p><p>“She’ll come around,” Zeke found himself reassuring him.</p><p>“She hates me,” Connor muttered, watching her go. “The rest of you dislike me and distrust me, but she actually hates me.”</p><p>Zeke felt a little flare of shame at his implicit inclusion in the comment, but it wasn’t untrue. Polly and Apollo seemed to be coming around to Connor, but Zeke, Gwen, and Julia especially just weren’t there yet. His brain stalled, feeling compelled to reassure Connor to make him feel better: a trait that Gwen had said was uniquely Zeke and that empathy would be his undoing one day.</p><p>Shit, maybe today was that day.</p><p>Unsure what to do about that, he found a second’s distraction in jabbing the little Cupid’s plastic insert stick into the top of one of the open boxes in the storage room and closing the storage room doors. The motion of closing the doors made his shoulder gears grind and groan again, and he swallowed a grimace. He hastily shook it off and turned to face Connor.</p><p>“What did you need me for?”</p><p>Connor, however, was looking at him with narrow eyes. “You’re damaged.”</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Zeke blew a raspberry and waved his good hand at him dismissively. “Aren’t we all? Why were you looking for me? Did you need assistance with—“</p><p>“Your shoulder is causing you discomfort,” Connor went on, scanning his eyes over Zeke’s bad shoulder.</p><p>“Quit it,” Zeke muttered, turning his bad side away from the RK800.</p><p>Connor blinked, visibly reverting his optical units from scanning to standard mode. “I’m sorry. My first instinct is to scan when I know something’s wrong, but I should know by now that androids don’t like to be scanned.”</p><p>“Yeah, do you like it?” Zeke said defensively, folding his arms as best he could across his chest.</p><p>Connor grimaced. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry—“</p><p>“Forget it,” Zeke tried to change the topic back to something harmless. “Seriously, what did you need my help with?”</p><p>“It…It can wait.” Connor shook his head. “You should get your shoulder looked at and repaired by a technician.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Zeke waved him off again.</p><p>“We have a new in-house technician on the second floor of this station. He’s professional and friendly. His name is Kevin Street, and he isn’t…like the Cyberlife technicians,” Connor assured.</p><p>“Good for him,” Zeke said brusquely. “I don’t have time to waste in a repair bay. I’m fine, and I’ve got night shift patrol in an hour.”</p><p>“You can’t go on patrol with a malfunctioning arm—“</p><p>“I am not ‘malfunctioning.’ Just leave me alone—“ Zeke curled into himself a little farther.</p><p>Connor scanned him again…not in the technical sense of using his hardware to scan him, but instead he stared in that scrutinizing, assessing way that Lieutenant Anderson sometimes did. He seemed to reach a conclusion, but he mercifully didn’t voice it outright.</p><p>“I can accompany you to the technician’s office—“</p><p>“Are you threatening me now?”</p><p>“…if you don’t trust Dr. Street and wish to have…a witness as he treats your arm,” Connor finished, speaking past the brief sting of hurt on his face at Zeke’s accusation.</p><p>Zeke eyed him cynically. “I don’t need a babysitter.”</p><p>“Zeke,” the first cracks of real frustration leaked into Connor’s tone, and he paused before speaking again. “That isn’t my intention. I am only offering to be present for your benefit, if doing so will set your mind more at ease around this technician. I’ve…I’ve seen my share of Cyberlife technicians…with their lab coats and their cold tools and rough touch and their…”</p><p>He shook himself, focusing again on Zeke.</p><p>“Lieutenant Anderson has accompanied me during repair sessions before, and his…supportive presence has helped me. I was only trying to do the same…for…never mind.” He seemed to deflate, turning apologetic. “I’m sorry for imposing. If you say you’re fine and it isn’t affecting your work, then it isn’t my business. I was just…never mind.”</p><p>He stopped from explaining himself further and made to leave Zeke alone. Zeke watched him take two steps away, and he gingerly moving his shoulder and wincing at the stiffness. The problem was that this WAS going to affect his work, and that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be able to lift a box or climb a ladder. Not doing his job meant putting his partners in danger if something happened on his shift. If they were sent on a call and his arm prevented him from protecting them properly. Were all his nerves and anxiety worth that weight on his conscience…because he had a conscience now and could feel remorse and distress now?</p><p>“Okay,” Zeke blurted after him.</p><p>Connor stopped on a dime, tentatively turning to look back at him.</p><p>Zeke bristled. “Okay, fine, but—“ he pointed a finger at him, as if he the PC200 could ever successfully threaten the RK800, “—but you keep your mouth shut about it, okay?”</p><p>Connor looked heartened by that, and he nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>Zeke folded his arms again, anxiety prickling through the biocomponents in his belly. “Okay, well…lead the way then.”</p><p>The technician’s office at the DPD’s 7<sup>th</sup> precinct station had changed somewhat since the last time Zeke had been dragged up there for repairs. Last time, it had been a cobbled together room, singular, with a flat metal table and crates of repair equipment on a cart against the wall. The old technician had been a horrible woman named Trina. Gwen had quietly nicknamed her the Yanker, as her preferred method of removing broken parts and pieces had been to simply yank on them until they came off the body. She had also been all about speed. Get in, get fixed, and get out. Her office had reflected that mentality.</p><p>Zeke hardly recognized it now.</p><p>The singular office had expanded to swallow up nearly half of the second floor, effectively turning it into a wing of the building. Instead of a claustrophobic, poorly lit, badly organized, and cobbled together space…It looked like a doctor’s office or a human clinic.</p><p>New walls had been installed to separate treatment rooms for privacy, and it all smelled of fresh paint and recently cleaned surfaces. It was a level of sterility and professionalism that was both a huge step up from the previous technician…and a disconcerting similarity to a Cyberlife lab.</p><p>Zeke quietly stewed on that as he reluctantly followed Connor out of the elevator and down the hall to the main office. The wall beside Dr. Street’s door was glass, giving someone in the hallway an unhindered view into the office itself. The office was sparsely furnished, as Dr. Street had only been on staff here a short while yet, with simply a plain white desk with two black chairs in front of it and one swiveling black chair behind it. A floor to ceiling bookcase was mounted behind the desk, filled with technical books and reference texts and, oddly, an entire section of music records near the bottom.</p><p>Well, not as odd once Zeke registered music bouncing out of the speakers on the desk.</p><p>Dr. Kevin Street was a middle aged man, completely bald and well groomed, and wearing black rimmed glasses. There was no lab coat, and the scrubs that he was wearing were the standard green. He was kicked back behind the desk, eyes closed and twiddling a pen between his fingers, thoroughly immersed in whatever he was listening to.</p><p>Going by the absurdly large poster depicting Celine Dion in live concert, Zeke had only one guess as to what artist that he was listening to.</p><p>That guess was confirmed when Connor knocked on the door. Dr. Street popped his eyes open and sat up, glancing over to the glass. He had dark eyes that made his face appear softer and kind, but Zeke had learned not to trust that generalization. He had heard once that the RK800 had been given brown eyes in order to appear more trustworthy or…softer or…whatever.</p><p>Dr. Street spotted the two of them, and he stood up, crossed over, and opened the door.</p><p><em>“…it’s so hard to believe, but it’s all coming back to me…”</em> cooed out of the speakers.</p><p>“Gentlemen,” Dr. Street greeted in a pleasant tone, quirking one eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”</p><p>Connor took a step back as Dr. Street opened the door fully. “Dr. Street—“</p><p>“Ah!” the technician pointed at him, raising both eyebrows.</p><p>Connor sighed and corrected himself, “Kevin…I’ve brought my colleague, patrol officer Zeke, who I have assessed is in need of technical assistance.”</p><p>Dr. Street bobbed his head, turning his eyes on Zeke. “That so? Does Patrol Officer Zeke agree with that assessment?”</p><p>Zeke, however, was oddly startled by Connor’s phrasing.</p><p>Colleague?</p><p>In what world would an RK800 consider a PC200 a colleague and not an underling?</p><p>“Is…this an auditory processing problem?” Dr. Street questioned.</p><p>“No,” Zeke rejoined the present, blinking and looking at the technician. “No, sir, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Get in. Get fixed. Get out.</p><p>Zeke pulled up his HUD and read straight from the text for efficiency’s sake.</p><p>“Biocomponent 925r is out of alignment and requires recalibration. Delay in repair has caused friction to begin affecting biocomponents 1029j and 632b as well,” he rattled off.</p><p>Dr. Street raised both hands to slow him down.</p><p>“Whoa, okay. Let’s pop over to Treatment Room A, the first one on the left there, yep, and I’ll take a look. Connor, you need something too?” he asked.</p><p>“No, I am here for…support.”</p><p>“Ah,” Dr. Street tutted, leading them to Treatment Room A. “Well, I’ve got no qualms if Zeke doesn’t. Do you? Zeke?”</p><p>Zeke fought his nerves, forgetting to pay attention as they walked into the treatment room.</p><p>“Um, no, sir. Sorry, sir.”</p><p>This room was one of the new rooms installed for the technician’s office. Everything looked new and well maintained…and there was another Celine Dion poster, looking like it was from a different concert.</p><p>“Okay, first, cut out that ‘sir’ crap. That down there,” Dr. Street pointed to the floor, “is the police department. Keep your ‘sir’s and ‘ma’am’s down there. This is my zone up here,” he waved his hands around. “We do the first name thing here, okay, Zeke?”</p><p>“Yes, si—Dr. Str—Kevin.”</p><p>Kevin snorted, glancing at Connor. “He picked that up quicker than you.”</p><p>Connor deadpanned but didn’t retort back. He merely hung by the wall as Kevin directed Zeke to remove his jacket and shirt so that he could assess his condition for himself.</p><p>Zeke sat on the cushioned exam table, feeling exposed and anxious as he forced himself to sit still so the technician could look at his shoulder. Kevin brought out a handheld scanner from a drawer in one of the wall cabinets. It came on with a quiet hum, and Kevin hovered it over Zeke’s shoulder, moving it up and down and side to side, before drawing it back to himself and reviewing the results on the small screen on the back of the scanner.</p><p>“Yep, everything you said matches up with what I’m seeing,” he said.</p><p>“I wasn’t lying to you,” Zeke said quietly.</p><p>“Well, you’d be surprised how often people lie to their doctors,” Kevin said, sliding an accusing look in Connor’s direction.</p><p>Connor, however, was eying the large poster. Through the wall, the sound of Kevin’s music was coming from his office, which had been left open.</p><p>
  <em>“…there were nights of endless pleasure…it was more than any laws allow!”</em>
</p><p> “Is the music necessary?” he asked.</p><p>“Sh, it’s the best part—“ Kevin abruptly held the scanner as if it was a microphone, belting out along with the music. <em>“BABY…BABY…if I kiss you like this, and if you whisper like that…it was lost long ago, but it’s all coming back to me…”</em></p><p>“Just seems inappropriate for the workplace,” Connor muttered.</p><p>Kevin, however, ignored him and kept going. <em>“If you want me like this…and if you need me like that…it was dead long ago but it’s all coming back to me!”</em></p><p>The song kept going, but Kevin stopped singing along, returning the scanner to its original purpose and looking at Connor with grave scrutiny.</p><p>“I don’t tell you how to solve crimes. Don’t tell me how to run my clinic. You don’t have jurisdiction up here.”</p><p>Connor sighed. “Of course.”</p><p>Kevin grumbled, but looked to Zeke with a wink as he gently started to palpate his shoulder. “Fancy ass detective…comes in here all huffy and wearing a tie...”</p><p>Zeke snorted, then laughed at Connor’s offended expression. The mirth quickly dried up as Kevin’s hands found a sore spot, and Zeke hissed, instinctually yanking away from him. Immediately, embarrassment welled up in its place, and he straightened up again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he apologized.</p><p>Kevin shook his head. “Just a pain response. You guys are all having to get used to having them. It’s all right. I have to touch it again though, okay?”</p><p>Zeke grimaced but nodded, looking pointedly away as Kevin put his hands on the joint again. Unwittingly, his eyes found Connor, and Connor fidgeted once before quickly assuming the mission of distraction.</p><p>“You’re currently living at Jericho, aren’t you?” Connor asked, taking a tentative step towards the exam table.</p><p>“Yeah,” Zeke cringed, feeling his gears grinding as Kevin carefully but thoroughly assessed the joint. “Why?”</p><p>“I’m…told it’s pet friendly?” Connor asked further.</p><p>What kind of off the wall, bonkers random question was that?</p><p>…The kind meant to distract, Zeke answered his own internal question.</p><p>Zeke decided to go with it. “Yeah, I guess so. Not a lot of us can afford to even take care of ourselves though, let alone any other living creature, so there aren’t many animals inside Jericho.”</p><p>Connor nodded, then suddenly turned…shy? Was that what his face was doing right now?</p><p>“I have a…I mean, I live with Lieutenant Anderson, and he has a dog named Sumo…though Hank repeatedly says that his dog favors me over him. I don’t know how much I believe that, but…it is oddly flattering to be in a dog’s favor…I like dogs.”</p><p>Kevin took a step back, removing his hands. “All right, Zeke, buddy.”</p><p>Zeke looked at him reluctantly.</p><p>Kevin put his hands on his hips. “Your shoulder is one good bump from getting completely dislocated. I can’t medically clear you for duty until it’s been repaired.”</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Zeke frowned. “How long will that take?”</p><p>“That depends,” Kevin explained. “You have some options. One is I reset your shoulder here and now. I’ve done that plenty of times. It’ll be quick, but it will hurt a bit. The upside there is that once it’s relocated, your healing program will repair all the frictional damage and recalibrate all those biocomponents during one full rest cycle. Another option is a tension device that I can temporarily install around your rotator cuff. It’ll essentially spend a week slowly pulling everything back into place. The pain is much more akin to just a sore arm after overexertion, but it will take longer, so you’ll be off duty for a week.”</p><p>Zeke’s frown deepened, “But if you just do the thing right now…I can go back to work—“</p><p>“Tomorrow morning after a rest cycle,” Kevin answered.</p><p>So…go through some briefly intense pain and get back to normal faster…or go through a less intense process but take longer…</p><p>“Do it,” Zeke spoke quickly. “Before I change my mind.”</p><p>“Oh, okay…You sure?” Kevin asked.</p><p>“Yep…Nope…Yep…Do it.”</p><p>Connor frowned and took another step closer. “You can take some time to think about it.”</p><p>“I can’t miss work. I don’t have the luxury of a human friend to financially support me like you do,” Zeke bit out, then squinted his eyes shut. “Sorry, that came out mean. I’m just…hurting and I want it to stop.”</p><p>“Well, the patient has spoken,” Kevin announced. “Now, Connor stays or Connor goes?”</p><p>Zeke peered one eye open to see Kevin looking at him expectantly. As was Connor, and he looked eager to comply with whatever Zeke wanted. He was a pretty good distraction, and if Zeke was going to let this human inflict pain on him…then he wanted a distraction, and he didn’t want to be alone.</p><p>“He can stay,” he ground out.</p><p>Kevin bobbed his head. “All right, here we go.” He held up his hands to grasp Zeke’s arm.</p><p>Zeke startled, “Oh, right now?”</p><p>“You said do it? The ‘right now’ was implied?” Kevin prompted.</p><p>“No, you’re right—“ Zeke gave himself a shake. “I’m just jittery. I don’t…like technicians. No offense.”</p><p>“None taken, son.”</p><p>Connor shifted on his feet, then frowned as the song on the speakers hit a high note.</p><p>“Honestly…” he sighed.</p><p>“I do take offense to that,” Kevin quipped at Connor’s passive aggressive tone. “What you’re not going to do is saunter into my zone and disrespect Celine Dion.”</p><p>“It’s just unnecessary—“ Connor went on.</p><p>Kevin scoffed, grasping Zeke’s shoulder and upper arm. Zeke tensed.</p><p>“On three,” Kevin told him, then to Connor. “Are you having an auditory sensor malfunction?”</p><p>“No,” Connor said flatly.</p><p>“Then Celine stays on!”</p><p>“Guys,” Zeke groaned. “Can you not…”</p><p>“If we can hear it through the wall, then it’s too loud,” Connor argued.</p><p>Kevin’s eyes widened in offense. “First of all, MY ZONE. Second of all—“</p><p>“Second of all, it’s the same song on repeat every time—“</p><p>“SECOND OF ALL,” Kevin spoke over him. “MY ZONE.”</p><p>Connor gave Zeke a disbelieving look. Zeke dished it right back, but for very different reasons. Connor swung his look back to Kevin.</p><p>“And what’s third of all?”</p><p>“Third of all!” Kevin abruptly pulled, turned, and shoved Zeke’s arm.</p><p>For one excruciating half second, Zeke’s system registered his damaged structural component coming fully free of the synthetic joint. Then the twist of the limb and the shove back sent the component clicking back into the socket with a harsh pop that he felt all the way to his torso.</p><p>Then the pain simply vanished.</p><p>Like a switch being flipped, the sharp, grinding discomfort in his arm evaporated, leaving only a dull ache through his gears. He exhaled hard and bent forward slightly, left lightheaded from the abrupt vacuum left in the pain’s wake.</p><p>Kevin put a steadying hand on his other shoulder and gave Connor a nod.</p><p>“You’re getting better at your distraction technique.”</p><p>“I’ve been learning from Hank,” Connor added.</p><p>Kevin snorted, and Zeke sat up, looking at them both incredulously at their suddenly cordial tones.</p><p>“What the Hell!?”</p><p>“I said on three,” Kevin shrugged.</p><p>Connor had the sense at least to look a little guilty. “Distraction and surprise can make a technical procedure go by faster. That has been my experience anyway. I’m sorry for deceiving you.”</p><p>Zeke huffed in disbelief, sitting up straight and gingerly rotating his shoulder. Some residual pangs of discomfort prickled through his arm, but it didn’t feel as debilitating as before.</p><p>“I’ll get you a sling,” Kevin stated. “It’ll help keep your arm still, makes the recalibrating go more smoothly.”</p><p>He opened the door and briefly stepped out.</p><p>Zeke shook his head, blinking through the notifications in his HUD that confirmed that all his structural components and biocomponents were back in working order. Connor sheepishly held up his shirt toward him.</p><p>“Distraction, huh?” Zeke smirked, taking the shirt and carefully pulling it back on.</p><p>“Did it or did it not work?” Connor countered.</p><p>Kevin popped back in and helped Zeke put his jacket back on, along with the sling.</p><p>“I messaged the captain to let him know you’re out until tomorrow,” he explained, “and I almost wish I could go with you. Apparently Detective Reed is raising Hell down there.”</p><p>“Over what?” Connor asked.</p><p>Zeke stood from the table, testing his arm and finding the sling to be manageable.</p><p>Kevin shrugged, “Who knows. Something to do with Cupid.”</p><p>Zeke paused, looking at Connor, who had definitely seen Zeke mindlessly stash that Cupid thing from Reed’s rose bouquet in the storage room.</p><p>Oops.</p><p>Connor tilted his head. “Huh…Well, Detective Reed is always looking for a reason to get angry about something. I’m sure he’ll get over whatever it is this time.”</p><p>Kevin snorted and showed them out of his department to the elevators.</p><p>Connor touched the button to send them both back down to the first floor, and Zeke shifted from one foot to the other as the doors closed.</p><p>“Thanks,” he stated quietly.</p><p>“It’s a plastic flower decoration. Reed will forget about it by tomorrow—“</p><p>“No, I mean…for that,” Zeke said, gesturing to the technician’s office.</p><p>Connor followed his hand, then his expression softened in understanding. “Of course, anytime.”</p><p>The elevator chimed as the overhead light stated that they had reached the first floor.</p><p>“You’re…okay,” Zeke added while it was on his mind. “I mean…I appreciate your discretion back there and…sorry we’ve kinda been assholes to you. You can’t…You can’t blame us though, right? I mean, after everything…”</p><p>Connor shook his head, “Of course not. I’m just…hopeful for a second chance. So far that’s been hit or miss.”</p><p>Zeke snorted as the elevator doors opened to let them out. “Hey, from what I hear, you’ve got Polly and Apollo thinking about giving you that second chance. I don’t think Gwen’s too far off either by now.”</p><p>Connor stepped out first, “And…you?”</p><p>Zeke shrugged with his good arm, stepping out of the elevator. “Well…yeah, I guess so. I mean, you didn’t turn me in back there and order me to the scrapyard for having a busted arm.”</p><p>Connor looked briefly horrified, and Zeke snorted, reaching out and tapping him on the elbow.</p><p>“Kidding. I’m kidding. It’s a thing people do sometimes to lighten the mood.”</p><p>“Yes I’m…aware. It’s just normally done at my expense so…Are we…okay?” Connor asked.</p><p>Zeke paused, then nodded. “…Yeah…we’re okay.”</p><p>Connor’s posture straightened up, looking bolstered by that.</p><p>“Hey, I owe you one,” Zeke added.</p><p>Connor grinned, aiming to head back to the bullpen, while Zeke prepared to go home for that recommended rest cycle.</p><p>“Maybe…put in a good word for me with Julia?” Connor asked.</p><p>“I owe you one favor, not a miracle.”</p><p>Connor sighed, and Zeke nudged him again playfully.</p><p>“I'll work for that miracle. How about I start by covering your night shift?” Connor offered.</p><p>“Deal.” Zeke held out a hand to shake on it.</p><p>Connor smiled and shook his hand.</p><p>Zeke gave him a brief salute as he headed toward the exit. “See you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Have a good night, Zeke.”</p><p>Zeke grinned as he walked out of the station, helplessly whistling to himself as he called a taxi to take him home to Jericho. It quickly turned to humming, and by the time the taxi rolled up, he was quietly singing to himself under his breath.</p><p>“Dammit now I’ve got that blasted song stuck in my head!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>With apologies to Celine Dion.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. March</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One PM700 wasn’t worth putting more officers in danger. Gwen knew this to be a fact. She and the others were outnumbered. This was also a fact. Backup wasn’t coming. Fact. She also knew that she was going to die…Knowing it didn’t make facing it any easier.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Calling all units—in progress—located at—avenue—“</em>
</p>
<p>Dispatch cut in and out, punctuated by bursts of static and the pepper of gunfire saturating the air. The clear sky let the afternoon sunshine pour down on the scene unencumbered, hitting on every splash of blood, both red and blue, staining the street…the walls…the cars…the bodies.</p>
<p>The call had come in reporting gunfire near the burnt out district of downtown Detroit. It was an area of the city that the population had written off: the epicenter of the more violent outbreaks during the android revolution and the ensuing riots that followed. As such, it had devolved into a popular area for the gangs, drug deals, and black market rings to fester.</p>
<p>Today’s gunfire that had broken out involved the main gang that had been peddling android biocomponents and thirium through the black market. Apparently a deal had gone south between them and the newest Red Ice ring that had been forming in Detroit. Police had been called to the scene just as it was getting violent.</p>
<p>Gwen, a PM700 model patrol android, had been among the nearest officers deployed to the situation, and as far as she could determine, she was the last one standing…and she wasn’t even standing.</p>
<p>Sergeant David Hicks was dead, lying where he had landed when one of the criminals’ shots had caught him in the head. The squad car that he had fallen behind was taking the brunt of any bullets that were sent his way now. Not that it was doing him any good, but it was protecting Gwen.</p>
<p>She had seen him go down from her position, but she hadn’t known that he had been instantly killed. So her orders had compelled her to leave her blockaded space and rush to the aid of her fallen superior officer. Unfortunately, despite cover fire from Officer Miller and Apollo behind her, one wild bullet had caught her in the calf, taking her down. Her momentum had sent her tumbling behind the shelter of the squad car and into the puddle of red spreading around Hicks.</p>
<p>The bullet had hit her leg at exactly the right angle to completely ruin the entire limb. It had passed through the plastic casing of her leg, shattering and sending shards ricocheting through her calf and down into her lower leg. Her synthetic muscle belts had snapped, rendering her immobilized and unable to run or even stand. Fortunately, her system had closed off all of her thirium lines that had been punctured by the bullet shards. So although she was stained in her own blue, she was no longer actively losing blood.</p>
<p><em>“All units: fall back!”</em> sizzled across the static of her internal radio.</p>
<p>No…No, no, no!</p>
<p>They were going to leave her here.</p>
<p>“Shit,” she hissed, leaning against the back tire of the squad car.</p>
<p>She had grabbed up Hicks’ service weapon, being unarmed herself since patrol androids were still not allowed to carry. She checked the magazine and found it half full. She took two short pulls of air into her ventilation biocomponents, trying to cool her system and keep the stress from overheating her. Looking forward, she could see the other officers starting to comply with the new orders…she was helpless to watch their backs retreat toward their cars to safer ground.</p>
<p>Officer Miller remained; the whites of his eyes visible under the brim of his hat as his gaze stayed locked onto Gwen. He was taking shelter behind a concrete mass of public art several yards away, and although he looked terrified, the firmness of his eye contact with her told her he wasn’t going to abandon her here.</p>
<p>On the other end of the concrete mass, Apollo’s eyes were visibly tracking the surrounding area, scanning to pinpoint the location and number of shooters still in the area. He didn’t appear to be following the new orders either, and he had also managed to acquire a gun. Gwen didn’t feel any of her stress fully ease at that notion.</p>
<p>She was still stranded where she was, unable to move and too far away for either of them to reach her without endangering themselves.</p>
<p>Backup wasn’t coming.</p>
<p>One PM700 wasn’t worth putting more officers in danger.</p>
<p>She was going to die.</p>
<p>It came to her as a fact, with supporting statistics scrolling unwelcome through her HUD to confirm it. She cursed and blinked rapidly to dismiss them. All the facts and statistics in the world weren’t able to make the situation any more acceptable.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to die.</p>
<p>She took another deep breath through her mouth, exhaling hard through her nose, and she looked around to better assess her circumstances.</p>
<p>She had one handgun with half of a magazine left.</p>
<p>She had Apollo and Officer Miller to provide enough cover fire to keep the gang members from advancing toward her.</p>
<p>The number of shooters was hard to determine based off the gunfire alone. The sound was echoing off the surrounding buildings, but the initial call from dispatch had estimated approximately a dozen shooters. Those belonging to the Red Ice ring had scattered quickly, while the black market dealers had had more gall to remain and fight.</p>
<p>If Gwen was left behind…they would take her.</p>
<p>“Shit,” she hissed, looking down at her bloody leg again.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to die…but she wanted even less to be stripped for parts and sold in pieces on the black market. A potent, ravenous fear clawed through her chest and coiled through her torso, and she gagged on it, fighting down the swell of what she could only think to describe as nausea.</p>
<p><em>“Gwen,”</em> came across the police radio in her head, and it took her a moment to identify Officer Miller’s voice.</p>
<p><em>“Sir,”</em> she choked out in response, hating how shaky her voice sounded.</p>
<p>She looked over at him again, her hands trembling around the gun.</p>
<p><em>“We’re gonna get you,”</em> he assured. <em>“Hang in there. We’ll think of something.”</em></p>
<p>Despite the firmness of his stare and the confidence in his tone, she couldn’t ignore the long stretch of bloody distance between her and their position.</p>
<p><em>“There are too many,”</em> Apollo chimed in over the radio, his voice steady and dissonantly calm. <em>“They are not retreating.”</em></p>
<p><em>“We’ll think of something!”</em> Miller spoke over him.</p>
<p>Gwen grimaced, testing the mobility of her damaged leg. Sharp splinters of pain burned out from the crater where the bullet had made impact. It initiated a twisting sensation in her belly, and her ventilation biocomponents seized. She yelped and then clamped her jaw shut against the sound, forcing her leg still again.</p>
<p>Yeah, she was going nowhere fast…</p>
<p>One PM700 wasn’t worth putting more officers in danger.</p>
<p><em>“You need to fall back,”</em> she replied shakily. <em>“I-I can cover you until you get to a safe distance.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Don’t you do that. We can get you out of this,”</em> Miller argued.</p>
<p>She shook her head and made eye contact with Apollo, whose expression was cool as ever, but there was a disturbance in his gaze.</p>
<p><em>“I won’t let you get yourselves shot on my account,”</em> she sent back. <em>“I’m not—“</em></p>
<p>A new sound entered the din around them, and it was close enough that Gwen cut herself off, turning in the direction of the new threat.</p>
<p>Not gunfire or the squeal of tires but…barking?</p>
<p><em>“Shit,”</em> Miller clearly saw the threat before she could get a visual. <em>“Dispatch, we got Hounds.”</em></p>
<p>As soon as he said it, she saw them.</p>
<p>“Hounds” was a common moniker used for the short-lived line of canine companion model androids that had been released for a limited run from Cyberlife. Limited because of a software flaw that made their personality programming susceptible to tampering. So those Hounds intentionally designed to be friendly, energetic, playful creatures had been rapidly weaponized by criminals who wanted attack dogs.</p>
<p>They were largely modeled after existing breeds similar to Labradors, retrievers, boxers, and even German Shepherds and pitbulls for police K-9 units. The medium to large sized creatures had not been a popular release among Cyberlife’s target demographic, and production had been discontinued pretty quickly. That hadn’t stopped several gangs from buying up the remaining models and altering their programming toward more aggressive and violent tendencies.</p>
<p>Gwen saw three Hounds prowl out from behind one of the vans parked on the curb outside the first burnt out building where the shooting had started. All three were skinless, revealing their bare plastic and metal casing, and their frames were similar to large retrievers. She could see repair lines and scuff marks all over their plastic, suggesting that they had seen their share of fights.</p>
<p>“Shit,” she cursed aloud. “Great…That’s just great…”</p>
<p><em>“Gwen, stay calm,”</em> Apollo spoke over the radio.</p>
<p><em>“I don’t want to die.”</em> FUCK, had she said that out loud?</p>
<p><em>“You won’t,”</em> Apollo said.</p>
<p>One of the large Hounds turned its head toward her. Bright blue-white eyes burned in its sockets as it lowered its head, snarling and taking slow…preying steps toward her position.</p>
<p><em>“One sees me…SHIT,”</em> she scooted backwards.</p>
<p>A stray bullet clipped the fender of the car behind her, keeping her from moving any farther back.</p>
<p>Stay where she was and get ripped apart by the Hounds…or risk trying to move and get shot out in the open?</p>
<p>She struggled to raise her gun. She didn’t know if half a magazine would be enough to take down three Hounds…or if that would just piss them off.</p>
<p>She hadn’t been programmed for this. She had never been designed to adapt to fear like this, to process this existential dread pooling through her. She hadn’t been designed to handle pain and to confront mortality like this. It wasn’t fair. She had only been deviant and ‘alive’ for a handful of months, and THIS was how she was going to go out?</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>FUCK!</p>
<p>A shrill whistle made two of the Hounds pause, perking up and looking around. The third Hound remained trained on Gwen, smelling her blood and no doubt hearing the thunder of her thirium pump in her chest.</p>
<p><em>“Gwen, Connor’s here,”</em> Apollo stated.</p>
<p>A handful of months ago, that would have been a warning. That statement would have taken her situation from Bad to Worse. That announcement would have been the final nail in the coffin, solidifying her fate as well and truly fucked. The Deviant Hunter was here.</p>
<p>Today, though, everything in her unexpectedly lurched in relief, and the shock of that left her lightheaded…or maybe she’d lost more blood than she thought.</p>
<p><em>“He’s coming to you,”</em> Apollo added.</p>
<p><em>“Provide cover fire!”</em> Miller called out.</p>
<p>Then he and Apollo were both redirecting their fire more pointedly toward one of the buildings where apparently most of the shooters were congregated. The return fire sounded like it was diminishing or falling back.</p>
<p>The two of the Hounds were focusing on Gwen again, while the first one had turned around to face the other direction. It was hard for Gwen to look at anything other than the three canines, with their long, glinting metal teeth and cold feral eyes. Movement beyond them caught her eye, however, and she spotted Connor.</p>
<p>The RK800 emerged from behind one of the abandoned squad cars, ducking under Miller and Apollo’s cover fire to approach the three Hounds. He let out another high pitched whistle, and two of the three canine heads swiveled to focus on him. He wasn’t wearing any gear, just that same damn jacket and tie as always. What the Hell was he planning to do?</p>
<p>Connor clucked his tongue at them, waving his hands slightly to keep their attention.</p>
<p>“Hey. Hey!” he called out, clapping his hands and juking to one side. “Look at me! Over here!”</p>
<p>Two of the Hounds fixated on him then, plastic hackles rising and ears lying flat as they made him their new target. The third Hound took another prowling step toward Gwen, and she resisted the visceral urge to move backwards, as doing so would open her up to gunfire on the other side of the squad car that she was hiding behind.</p>
<p>“Connor—“ she started. “What’re you doing?”</p>
<p>“Distraction tactic,” Connor yelled back without removing his eyes from the dogs. “Hey, hey, hey! Right here!”</p>
<p>He whistled again, moving around enough to keep the Hounds’ attention. He picked up a chunk of a side mirror that had been shot off a nearby car, and he lobbed it at the flank of the third Hound that was still focused on Gwen.</p>
<p>The Hound jumped in surprise and instantly whipped around, so that now all three were ignoring Gwen in favor of putting Connor in their crosshairs. Connor took a step backward, keeping his arms spread wide and threatening toward the dogs.</p>
<p>“Come here. Come at me. Come on,” he egged them on.</p>
<p>Suddenly, unnaturally, he jerked to the side, and a spray of blue speckled the ground as one of the gang member’s bullets found his lower forearm.</p>
<p>“Shit!” Miller cried out.</p>
<p>Apollo merely pivoted, instantly backtracking the trajectory of the bullet to the shooter’s location. He fired off one shot, and more of the incoming gunfire ceased.</p>
<p>“We’re down to three shooters, by my count,” he reported.</p>
<p>Connor turned with the momentum of the bullet to his arm, coming back around to face the dogs. His left arm was now hanging limp from his shoulder, but he stayed on his feet, using his remaining arm to wave at the dogs.</p>
<p>“I’m fine. Come on!”</p>
<p>The smell of fresh thirium egged the Hounds on further, and finally, one of them launched forward to attack. The other two were quick to follow. Connor took one step backward, turned on his heel, and then he was running away.</p>
<p>The abandoned building directly behind him was a parking garage, and he ducked under the broken swing gate and headed into the shadows of the building. The three Hounds were in tight pursuit, their sets of four legs pumping faster than an RK800’s two legs. In the short part of the chase that Gwen could see before Connor disappeared into the building…the Hounds were gaining easily on him.</p>
<p>Then Apollo was there, kneeling beside her. She yelped at his abrupt proximity but then grabbed at his collar in relief, suddenly irrationally terrified that he was going to disappear and leave her stranded again.</p>
<p>“I’ve got you,” he said swiftly.</p>
<p>“They’re falling back!” Miller fired a few more times, but his shots were the only reports echoing in the area now. He grabbed at the radio on his shoulder to reach dispatch again.</p>
<p>Gwen set the safety on the gun, her hands shaking too badly to keep a firm hold of it. She didn’t even have a holster to hold it in…</p>
<p>Apollo carefully took the weapon from her, ejecting the magazine and pocketing both components inside his Kevlar vest. He ran a brief scan over her body, and she looked up at him, feeling dizzier by the second as her internal gyroscope went haywire.</p>
<p>“Hicks is dead…” she managed to report.</p>
<p>Apollo didn’t say anything about that, instead pulling her arm around his neck and getting his arm around her back to hoist her up.</p>
<p>“On three,” he said. “One, two, three.”</p>
<p>He hauled her up from the bloody concrete, his hand grabbing her belt to steady her, and she groaned as pain burned up and down her leg. Her vision went briefly to greyscale as her system momentarily overloaded from the agony, and her good leg wobbled and threatened to buckle.</p>
<p>“—three Hounds on his tail—“ Miller was saying into the radio. “Negative, he came in cold. No gear, no weapons—What do you mean, fall back?! Did you hear me? We’ve got multiple officers down and one being chased by crazy robot dogs—“</p>
<p>Gwen’s center of gravity pitched forward, and Apollo quickly shifted his hold on her. Instead of trying to help her walk, he bent down and simply hoisted her up and across his shoulders in a full carry. Gwen could do little but allow this, gritting her teeth and grabbing at him in return to bear out the pain.</p>
<p>“Hold on,” Apollo urged her. “AES has been called. They’re on the way.”</p>
<p>Then he was moving…or she assumed he was…She could feel jostling…</p>
<p>Fresh blue and red flashing lights moved in and out of her field of vision…as Apollo carried her past the safety of the DPD line.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thirium level: 84 percent.</em>
</p>
<p>That wasn’t…enough for her to be dizzy like this…What was…</p>
<p>
  <em>Damage to left leg…14 percent functionality…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Please seek assistance from your nearest Cyberlife facility…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>External pain sensors overloading…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Stress level: 76 percent.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Emotional stress approaching capacity…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Initiating emergency stasis…</em>
</p>
<p>“Gwen?” Apollo demanded.</p>
<p>She felt her cognitive functions starting to darken, and her body was growing lax against her will.</p>
<p>The job wasn’t done…</p>
<p>She needed…to…</p>
<p>“B’ckup…” she slurred. “C’nn’r needs…backup…”</p>
<p>
  <em>Emergency stasis initiated…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Rebooting…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Standby…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thirium level 99 percent.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Stress level: 51 percent.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Scanning…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>All systems functional…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Running diagnostic…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No damage detected…</em>
</p>
<p>A stream of more internal system reporting scrolled across her HUD as Gwen came back online. Her brow knit as she dismissed them, her environmental scanners fighting through the fog to update her on her surroundings.</p>
<p>
  <em>Location: DPD Central Station, Technician’s Office.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Time: 5:42 pm.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Proximity alert…scanning…android identification verified…ST300…Julia.</em>
</p>
<p>“Hey, Gwen? Hey…”</p>
<p>The mental fog slowly cleared, and Gwen laboriously blinked once, twice, and then managed to keep her eyes open long enough for the room to come into focus.</p>
<p>As her system said, she recognized the walls of one of Dr. Street’s patient rooms on the second floor of the 07 station. It was quiet save for the ticking clock on the wall and the gentle rustle of clothing as Julia moved closer to the bed where Gwen was resting.</p>
<p>The ST300 looked worried, and a look of relief passed across her face as Gwen focused her gaze on her.</p>
<p>“Jules…” Gwen ground out.</p>
<p>Julia offered a smile. “Welcome back.”</p>
<p>Gwen took a moment, collected her thoughts, and then groaned.</p>
<p>Julia perked up in her seat in concern. “What’s wrong? Kevin said you wouldn’t be in any pain when you woke up…”</p>
<p>“Ugh, it’s not that…Did Apollo carry my ass in here?” Gwen grumbled, lifting her hands to cover her eyes.</p>
<p>“Um…”</p>
<p>“In front of God and everyone, did Apollo carry me in here like some kind of sack of potatoes?” she asked again.</p>
<p>“Give me some credit,” Apollo’s voice chimed in on her other side.</p>
<p>Gwen popped her hand away from her eyes, turning her head and locking onto him. Apollo was standing at parade rest near the door, still in uniform and looking no worse for wear from it all…of course…A muscle in his jaw was flexing and relaxing compulsively, however, and she frowned at him.</p>
<p>“You were unconscious,” he explained. “I got you to an AES ambulance, and when your condition was assessed as non-life threatening, you were transferred to Dr. Street’s care here at the station.” He shifted on his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “I was with you the entire time…to ensure your dignity remained intact.”</p>
<p>Gwen exhaled, lowering her hands and giving him a nod. “Well, I guess that counts for something…Thanks, man.”</p>
<p>Apollo nodded in return, then briefly nodded to Julia, before straightening himself. “I’ll inform Dr. Street that you’ve regained consciousness.”</p>
<p>He slipped out, closing the door after himself, and Julia watched him go before looking back to Gwen.</p>
<p>“How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>“Fan-freaking-tastic…Help me up.”</p>
<p>Julia assisted Gwen in sitting up on the cushioned table, and Gwen discovered that the lower leg of her pants had been entirely cut away to give the technician access to the damage point. That gave her a clear view of her newly repaired leg. The naked plastic and paneling glinted under the overhead light fixtures, and she could still see lines where the fractures had splintered through the main panel. They were pale and jagged, glued closed by some of Kevin’s repair work, and her healing program would do the rest. For now, they merely looked like scars.</p>
<p>She grimaced and gingerly rotated her ankle and flexed her calf. Her new muscle belts and gears felt stiff and not properly broken in yet. She’d be sore for a few hours, but all things considered…</p>
<p>She could close her eyes and still see Hicks…stained in red and growing colder by the minute beside her…</p>
<p>“Officer Miller?” she asked, looking to Julia.</p>
<p>“Safe and unharmed,” Julia immediately told her. “They apprehended a number of the shooters, but from what I hear, none of them are talking.”</p>
<p>Gwen frowned, rubbing at her leg and trying to shake off the phantom sound of snarling, hissing Hounds.</p>
<p>“Connor?” she asked, looking to Julia again.</p>
<p>Julia frowned, “He—“</p>
<p>There was a knock on the door, and Julia looked over to it.</p>
<p>“Come in.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t Kevin who appeared in the doorway, as Gwen would have predicted, but instead it was Captain Fowler. A jolt shot through Gwen, and she scrambled off the table in an effort to stand at attention for her captain. Her newly repaired leg wobbled, and Julia grabbed at her arm to steady her.</p>
<p>“Whoa, take it easy,” Captain Fowler stated, holding out his hands.</p>
<p>“Sir.” Gwen struggled to straighten up, locking her knee to get her balance back.</p>
<p>“At ease,” Fowler repeated. “Sit down. At ease.”</p>
<p>His permission quelled her system’s urging to stand at attention, and she let Julia guide her back to sitting against the exam table.</p>
<p>“It’s good to see you up and at it,” Fowler said, folding his arms and leaning back against one of the cabinets by the door.</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir,” Gwen said with a nod.</p>
<p>Fowler eyed her for a moment, then took a breath and relaxed his posture slightly. “I make it a point to check on any of my people who get injured in the line of duty. You’re one of the few who made it out of today’s mess—“</p>
<p>“I tried to save Sergeant Hicks, sir, but…I’m sorry, I wasn’t fast enough—“</p>
<p>Fowler raised a hand, and she quieted. He looked at her firmly.</p>
<p>“You did everything you could do,” he said. “You may be an android, but you guys have limits. I have yet to see any of you guys outrun a bullet…It wasn’t your fault. You did good today.”</p>
<p>Heat crawled through her chest at that, and she took a few quick breaths, swallowing impulsively against the heat. Standing just beside her, Julia wiggled her knuckles supportively against Gwen’s lower back, out of the captain’s sight. Gwen relaxed a little and glanced at her appreciatively.</p>
<p>Then she addressed her captain again. “Th-Thank you, sir.” She rotated her ankle again. “What about Connor, sir? Did he make it out okay?”</p>
<p>Fowler sighed, folding his arms and looking at her evenly. “A little banged up, but he walked away today better off that you did…Much as you guys can’t outrun bullets, you can’t outrun dogs either…much less android Hounds.”</p>
<p>Gwen shuddered, and Julia’s frown deepened as she looked at Fowler.</p>
<p>“Officer Miller said he…distracted the Hounds from attacking Gwen?”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded. “He used himself as bait to…to get them to chase after him instead. He gave Officer Miller and Apollo a window to get to me…He saved my life.”</p>
<p>Julia was looking at her evenly, and Fowler merely bobbed his head in weary agreement.</p>
<p>“We don’t leave anyone behind,” he stated.</p>
<p>Gwen raised her eyes to her captain, her jaw flexing. “I heard the order, sir…Someone…gave the order to fall back…I—They were going to leave me…Only Apollo and Miller stayed behind…against those orders…”</p>
<p>Fowler’s expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to look into that. That shouldn’t have happened.”</p>
<p>Gwen grimaced and averted her eyes.</p>
<p>One PM700 wasn’t worth putting more officers in danger.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he said in a more gentle tone.</p>
<p>He didn’t speak again, patiently waiting until Gwen mustered up the courage to meet his eyes. He stared at her hard.</p>
<p>“You are a member of this squad. All of you are,” he said, giving Julia a pointed look before returning his gaze to Gwen. “As long as you all serve in my precinct, then I have your back. You are my officers, and whoever gave that order to leave you behind…will not be part of this unit by the end of the day. Am I clear?”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded, and that molten, broiling feeling in her chest began to cool and solidify into something stronger.</p>
<p>“Now, I need to make some phone calls and get to the bottom of this,” he said, straightening up. “You take what time you need to recover, and I’ll be checking in on you later, all right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir…Thank you, Captain.”</p>
<p>Fowler looked stern, and he glanced at Julia, who corrected her posture respectfully toward him. Then he was stepping out again.</p>
<p>As soon as the door shut, Gwen deflated slightly, and Julia rubbed her arm.</p>
<p>“Hey, let me see if Kevin has some extra uniform pants for you, yeah?”</p>
<p>Gwen closed her eyes and put her hand over her mouth, taking in slow breaths to ventilate her internal systems. She nodded to her friend. Julia paused, then gave her a playful nudge on the elbow.</p>
<p>“I mean…not that the whole…one long pant and one short pant thing isn’t like…a Look.”</p>
<p>Gwen snorted and lifted her eyes to the ST300. Julia offered a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Jules.”</p>
<p>Julia winked and backed toward the door, twisting the knob open. She started to back up into the hallway, only to nearly bump into Connor, as he had been preparing to knock. Julia startled and backpedaled so rapidly that her back hit the door jam, and she grunted. Connor, equally, jumped back away from her, hastily trying to get out of her personal space, and he lost his balance in his hurry.</p>
<p>Julia seemed to involuntarily reach out and grab him by the shirt collar, preventing him from toppling completely backwards, and as soon as she realized that, she abruptly pushed him against the other side of the door jam. Not roughly, but enough to be sure that he was firm on his feet. She let go of him, awkwardly took her hand back, and finished backing out into the hallway.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” she grunted. “You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Connor huffed, looking ruffled by the close encounter. “I’m sorry, thank you…Yes, I’m okay…”</p>
<p>“Good.” Julia cleared her throat and needlessly straightened her shirt sleeves. “Well…Good…Gwen?”</p>
<p>“Pants?” Gwen asked, quirking an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Pants!” Julia refocused herself, giving Connor one last confused look before heading off on her mission.</p>
<p>Connor blinked after her for a beat, then turned to look at Gwen, loitering in the doorway.</p>
<p>“May I come in? I was…wanting to check on your status myself, but I can leave…”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine. Please…come on in,” Gwen said with a brief wave.</p>
<p>Honestly, she was relieved to see him here and in one piece.</p>
<p>And if that wasn’t the weirdest realization that she’d had today…</p>
<p>The jacket, tie, and white dress shirt were gone, presumably in tatters if the visible bandages at his collar and neck were anything to go by. He’d swapped his usual uniform for a plain navy blue DPD t-shirt. A thick brace was wrapped around his damaged forearm and wrist, covering a dense pad of bandaging gauze where the bullet had struck the limb. The blue blood spatter stains on his pant leg were already fading, and he didn’t appear to be in any pain either.</p>
<p>“You look like you’ve had better days,” she remarked, nodding to his arm and his neck bandaging.</p>
<p>Connor smirked, glanced down at his arm, and then shrugged. “I’ve had worse too.”</p>
<p>Gwen snorted, “Yeah, I bet…”</p>
<p>Her tone came out strangely, not the way that she intended, and his relaxed posture began to tense as he took it the wrong way. She grimaced and straightened up a little, feebly waving a hand at him from her knee.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean…I don’t know what I mean right now. It’s been a shit day.” She raised her hand and rubbed at her face. “Are you…okay?” she asked, looking at him again.</p>
<p>Connor hesitantly tried to relax around her again. “Yes.” He shifted, “Why?”</p>
<p>Gwen blinked and tilted her head sideways. “We both got shot today and nearly got ripped apart by Hounds. ‘Are you okay’ feels like an appropriate question.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but…you’ve never asked me if I’m okay before,” he said carefully, “and we have served together numerous times over the past few months.”</p>
<p>“Well…you’ve never…stuck your neck out like that for me before…literally,” she said, gesturing toward his bandaged collar line. “And…um…Thank you…for that…Thank you for doing what you did back there. I didn’t know you had that in you,” she quipped, trying to sound light.</p>
<p>He frowned. “I was designed to protect and serve…that includes you and the other members of this team.”</p>
<p>Gwen sighed and rolled her neck.</p>
<p>“Whatever—Look, I’m trying to thank you for saving my life. So shut up and take my gratitude.”</p>
<p>Connor balked slightly, and Gwen cracked a grin at him. He caught that and relaxed.</p>
<p>“You’re, uh, you’re welcome, I think.”</p>
<p>She snorted and rubbed at her knee again, looking at him. “So how did you take down those three Hounds? You weren’t armed last I saw you.”</p>
<p>Connor tilted his head. “I didn’t. I knew I couldn’t outrun them, so I tricked them into chasing me into the administrative office of the building. I was able to lock them in there, but…they did get a few swipes in on me.”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe a technician can extract their memory files and get some info on their owners. Either the black market gang or this new Red Ice ring. We hardly know anything about them other than the new Red Ice that they’re making is purple for some reason. What do they call it…”</p>
<p>“Ghost,” Connor stated. “But we won’t be able to run any kind of forensics on the Hounds until the technician releases them.”</p>
<p>Gwen balked. “They weren’t deactivated?!”</p>
<p>“They were victims of having their code tampered with. It wasn’t their fault they were reprogrammed to be aggressive,” Connor stated, almost defensively. “I appealed their deactivation order. The alterations to their coding are going to be reversed back to factory settings, so I don’t see a need to…put them down.”</p>
<p>Mercy.</p>
<p>Gwen stared at Connor as he looked almost self conscious about the whole thing.</p>
<p>The RK800, the famous Deviant Hunter, with a solid reputation for taking down deviants regardless of how they pleaded or begged or ran…and today he had showed mercy, both to her and to a group of Hounds that had very nearly ripped him apart.</p>
<p>“Huh,” she tutted thoughtfully. “You, uh…you keep surprising me, Connor.”</p>
<p>Connor gave her a level look. “In a good way, I hope.”</p>
<p>Gwen smirked and bobbed her head in concession. “Yeah, so far…I guess I owe you a drink for saving my life.”</p>
<p>“My thirium levels ARE a little low after today,” he admitted, flexing his damaged arm and quirking an eyebrow at her.</p>
<p>It was such an expected expression of playfulness that Gwen kicked back in her seat with a cackle.</p>
<p>“Oh, Mr. Detective has jokes now?”</p>
<p>“I’m…making an attempt.”</p>
<p>“Well, don’t quit your day job.”</p>
<p>“I have no intention of quitting my job…but it is nice to hear someone tell me not to,” he stated sincerely.</p>
<p>Gwen shook her head, gingerly moving her leg again. “Don’t make it weird, man.”</p>
<p>A knock on the door announced Julia’s return with fresh clothes for Gwen to change into.</p>
<p>“Anyway…seriously, Connor, thank you,” Gwen said, finding her way back to a serious tone. “I owe you for this.”</p>
<p>She extended a hand toward him.</p>
<p>Connor paused, then gave a hopeful smile, clasping her hand and shaking it.</p>
<p>“You don’t owe me anything. We’re a team. It’s what we do, right?”</p>
<p>“Right…” Gwen snorted as Julia opened the door and stepped inside. “Now, skedaddle. You saved my life, but that doesn’t mean you get to see my goods while I change.”</p>
<p>Connor looked affronted, but he caught her teasing tone and scoffed at her.</p>
<p>“Now who’s making it weird?”</p>
<p>“Get!”</p>
<p>He shook his head with a smirk as he backed toward the door, carefully avoiding Julia this time. She equally gave him a wide berth, waiting until he had left and closed the door after himself before turning to look at Gwen.</p>
<p>“What was that all about?”</p>
<p>Gwen was already loosening her belt, eager to get out of her own blood stained pants.</p>
<p>“Either I hit my head today, Jules, or I just had the thought that we should maybe give Connor another chance.”</p>
<p>Julia raised an eyebrow at her, sighed, and unfolded the new pants. She glanced toward the closed door, shook her head, and looked at Gwen again.</p>
<p>“Maybe…Did he actually save your life today?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and get this…he even had those Hounds spared from the scrapyard. They’re getting reset…like some new lease on life or something.”</p>
<p>Julia frowned. “Why?”</p>
<p>Gwen shrugged. “He told Zeke he likes dogs. Maybe the big bad Deviant Hunter actually has a soft spot.”</p>
<p>Julia scoffed at that, handing her the new pants. “I’ll believe that when I see it myself.”</p>
<p>Gwen snorted and started to change. “That’s what I said this morning, and now here I am.”</p>
<p>“…Maybe Dr. Street should give you a head scan.”</p>
<p>Gwen laughed, “Oh shut up, Jules.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. April</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anger, suspicion, and paranoia are what helped her survive during the turbulent days of the revolution. But the revolution was months ago, and for the ST300 named Julia, maintaining the same attitude that helped her survive is turning out to be a hard way to live. In light of new evidence and new circumstances, she is maybe inclined to change her tune. Maybe some people deserved second chances.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Tick…Tick…Tick…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One hour, twenty six minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>She could do this.</p><p>This wasn’t a big deal.</p><p>She was just being stupid. She could do this.</p><p>The afternoon sunlight was stretching across the tile floor of the DPD’s 7<sup>th</sup> precinct station reception area. The air conditioning had been kicking on and off all day, as the weather in the city couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. It was cold in the morning, pleasant by midday, almost hot by the afternoon, then cooling off again in the evening. Every time someone came in the front doors of the station, the climate control was thrown off by the rush of warmer air that slipped inside with them.</p><p>Likewise, the people coming in were all dressed across the gamut. Some came in wearing shorts and t-shirts. Some came in wearing long jeans and heavy sweaters. But none of them were happy.</p><p>
  <em>Tick…Tick…Tick…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One hour, twenty five minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>Dammit.</p><p>Behind the front desk, the ST300 named Julia sat forcibly still, hands folded tightly in her lap, and manually overriding her LED to remain a calmly cycling blue. She was the only one in the reception area at the moment, and she had thought that once none of the public was in here needing her assistance, that she would feel better. But somehow being alone was worse…because who knew what was going to come into the station next.</p><p>And she was going to be the first face that they saw. The first person that they met as a representative of this station. The first person that they would expect to answer their questions, meet their demands, and give them what they needed to get out and get on with their day. And she was supposed to endure it all with a smile and an unflappable attitude.</p><p>
  <em>One hour, twenty four minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>Julia grimaced and closed her eyes, grabbing the top of her knee to keep her leg from jumping in place.</p><p>Stupid…Stupid, she was being stupid…</p><p>The phone on the desk rang, and she jumped, clamping her jaw shut against an anxious yelp that was almost rattled out of her. All of her joints felt locked up from her tightly wound nerves, and she laboriously pried one hand free from her lap. The hand was visibly shaky, and she cursed again, picking up the phone from the cradle and grasping it tightly to smother the involuntary shaking.</p><p>The ID on the phone cradle read “Officer Wilson Cell,” and she marginally relaxed, lifting it to her ear.</p><p>“Front desk: Julia,” she answered, speaking through her teeth.</p><p>“Hi, Julia,” Officer Wilson came over the line. “I’m sorry about this, but Polly’s appointment is taking longer than we thought.”</p><p>Julia frowned, trying to ease up on her grip as the plastic of the phone creaked against her ear. “Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Yeah…It just turns out that technician’s offices are just like human doctor’s offices: backed up and slow,” Wilson answered with a chuckle. “The good news is that this Dr. Kess guy thinks he can do a repair that will extend Polly’s power retention capabilities from six hours to nine, maybe twelve.”</p><p>“That’s great news,” she said, and her knee started to jump as she sensed where this was going.</p><p>“But he’s wanting to run a few more diagnostic tests to be sure before putting her through that,” Wilson went on. “So…would you be able to cover the rest of her shift? I know we said we’d be back by…an hour and a half from now—“</p><p>
  <em>One hour, twenty minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>Julia gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes closed to keep her breathing even.</p><p>“—but it’s looking like it’s going to be closer to three hours…If you can’t, then I can figure something out…”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Julia blurted.</p><p>“Are you sure? I feel bad asking you to take on more. Polly said you don’t like working the front desk…”</p><p>Julia cobbled together a laugh to break the tension pressing against her chest, though the sound came out higher pitched than she intended, making her sound slightly strangled.</p><p>“Well, I’m sure she doesn’t like going to the technician,” she managed to speak more casually than she felt. “It’s no problem, really. I’m just glad she’s making some progress.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Wilson sounded relieved and optimistic. “Here’s hoping…Hey, thank you so much, Jules. We owe you one.”</p><p>“Oh don’t worry, I’m keeping track,” she snickered at him.</p><p>“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Good luck!”</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>Julia waited for the dial tone, then hung up the phone, her smile melting off her face as the call ended.</p><p>
  <em>One hour, nineteen minutes—reset.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Three hours remaining…</em>
</p><p>Dammit.</p><p>Dammit. Goddammit.</p><p>Heat was building up around her collar, and her clothing was starting to feel constricting and uncomfortable against her skin program. It wasn’t an android uniform any longer at least. The DPD had discontinued all uniforms bearing android identifier markings. The standard patrol officer uniforms hadn’t changed much besides that, so Gwen, Zeke, and Apollo more or less looked the same. The clerical staff such as Polly and Julia, however, had been given more free reign to dress more casually.</p><p>Polly normally preferred to look more pressed and professional: being the first face that the public saw as they entered the DPD station. Julia, who rarely worked around the public and was normally happy to be a file room gremlin, opted for comfortable blouses and jeans or dresses. She couldn’t stand the old receptionist uniforms that they had used to wear before the revolution.</p><p>She also couldn’t stand working the reception desk, and she had told Captain Fowler as much when he had hired her on after the revolution. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to articulate a good enough justification to permanently exempt her from ever working the front desk. She knew exactly why she hated it, and she hated that she couldn’t explain it properly. Speaking about it was just…next to impossible sometimes, and he was a human…He couldn’t really understand.</p><p>Shame wasn’t something that she used to be able to feel.</p><p>That was just one of the delights of being deviant.</p><p>Taking slow, deep breaths to circulate air through her internal biocomponents, Julia forced her posture to straighten up again, taking a scan of the reception area once more.</p><p>There was still no one here. She was still alone, for better or for worse, and the sunshine continued to creep across the DPD seal painted on the floor.</p><p>
  <em>Two hours and fifty eight minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>She could do this…</p><p>She just needed a distraction.</p><p>Julia glanced down to the cardboard box that Officer Chen had dragged out of the storage room. Captain Fowler had given her orders to clear out the overloaded space, and this box had become the catch-all for the clutter that needed to go. The box had been making the rounds around the bullpen for anybody to take what they wanted from it. What was left at the end of the day was going to be donated or recycled. She started to reach for the top flap to peer inside, abandoned the effort, and looked away to the open space ahead of her again.</p><p>The one television in the front area was displaying a cooking channel. Some man in an overly polished kitchen, dramatically explaining how to make…pancakes or…a sheet cake or…she wasn’t paying enough attention to grasp it. That was the first thing that she had done when she took over for Polly this afternoon: change the channel away from news, away from weather, away from reporters and live feeds and…It was so much, all the time.</p><p>She could close her eyes and be right back there…at Stratford Tower.</p><p>Back then, she had been trapped behind their front desk, surrounded for twenty four hours a day by several television screens, all mercilessly bombarding her with all the breaking news of the day…and rarely had any of it been good.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Storms cause damage and major flooding across three states…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Red Ice lab explodes in downtown Detroit, killing five and injuring a dozen others…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cyberlife releases a statement on the rise in violent android incidents, calling it a ‘deviant problem’ that will be resolved soon…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Plane crashes over Lake Erie, killing all on board…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cyberlife’s latest model, the RK800, makes stunning progress terminating deviant androids, earning itself the nickname: Deviant Hunter…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Black market biocomponents dealers on the rise, leading to increase in android theft.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cyberlife’s RK800 joins DPD, capturing deviant responsible for murdering its owner. Deviant has reportedly been terminated…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Deviant Hunter spotted chasing a runaway deviant android through local neighborhood. Witnesses say the defective android was terminated on sight by the RK800. Others say the deviant is still on the loose. More on this story as it develops…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cyberlife is boasting that its detective android is “uncrackable” and virtually immune to the deviancy virus…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Is the DPD commissioning an order of RK800s from Cyberlife to form a new deviant hunting division? Stay tuned for more…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Retired artist Carl Manfred is in stable condition after his personal care android apparently went rogue and attacked him…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello, sir. What can I do for you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I…have an appointment with Mr. Peterson.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you have any ID?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ye—Uh, yeah, yes, of course.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A hand abruptly grabbing hers across the counter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I need your help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>White noise.</em>
</p><p>The sound of the front doors opening jogged Julia out of the memories, and that should have been a relief. Except she was jogged out of the traumatic memories to rejoin the anxiety of her present situation…Back at a reception desk…trapped and helpless against whoever came through those doors.</p><p>Her gaze snapped over to the front doors, then blinked in confusion when at first she saw no one. She lowered her eyes to see three dogs enter the reception area. They appeared to be Labradors of all three colors: yellow, black, and chocolate. They were all lolling pink tongues and wiggly bodies as they spilled inside. All three were wearing black harnesses that were attached to leashes, all held by one cop who stumbled in after them.</p><p>The sunlight caught on the electric blue of the dogs’ eyes, and she recognized them to be android Hounds. The cop holding their leashes had a vest with “K-9 Division” printed on it under his name: Ofc. Davis, and he was handling the three canines expertly despite their chaotic energy. Shortly after the cop came Connor.</p><p>She could still hear Stratford’s old headlines…</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Deviants terminated…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Another successful takedown of a dangerous deviant…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cyberlife’s crown jewel, the RK800…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Deviant Hunter…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We now go to live footage of the RK800 subduing a violent android at the scene…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Hunter…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Deviants terminated…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Hunter…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Julia?” Connor was suddenly standing in front of the desk before her, looking concerned, as he reached out and lightly touched her hand to get her attention.</p><p>Julia tensed and yanked her hand back as though burned, out from under his touch and off the counter.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He immediately took a step back, holding his hands at his sides in plain view. “You just looked…like something was wrong.”</p><p>Julia rolled her shoulder, regaining her composure as she noticed Officer Davis eying her in bewilderment. Her neck continued to feel hot, and she flexed her jaw, looking back to Connor.</p><p>“What do you want?” she asked bluntly.</p><p>Davis chuckled. “Man, customer service around here sure has gone downhill, eh?”</p><p>Julia lowered her gaze to the desk counter, embarrassment burning her collar, and Connor frowned, looking to Davis.</p><p>“Go ahead, Officer. Captain Fowler and Sergeant Ross will be meeting us in the briefing room shortly,” he said.</p><p>Davis bobbed his head, wrestling the three Hounds toward the doors to the bullpen. “Right-O. Good luck with that firecracker,” he snorted, nodding to Julia.</p><p>Connor grimaced through a polite smile, and Davis wrangled the Hounds through the door, leaving Julia alone with the RK800 in the empty reception area.</p><p>
  <em>Two hours, forty seven minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>Connor slowly looked at her. She tensed.</p><p>“Are you all right? You seem on edge…more so than usual,” he stated.</p><p>In lieu of an answer, Julia turned her attention back to Chen’s clutter box, flipping open the flap.</p><p>“Are those the three Hounds that almost killed Gwen?” she asked.</p><p>Connor paused, then replied. “Yes.”</p><p>“And you think it’s a good idea to just prance them in here, right in her face?”</p><p>“I spoke with her multiple times beforehand and assured her they had been completely reset back to docile factory settings. She was okay with this,” he said, then, “Give me some credit.”</p><p>Julia wanted to scoff at that, but she held her tongue.</p><p>He had saved Gwen last month with Apollo and Officer Miller’s assistance. He had put himself directly in danger to do so…and that had earned him a second chance with Gwen. He’d managed to earn a second chance with the other androids at the station too. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much, but it did.</p><p>Almost as much as, “Why did you spare them?”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>Julia grimaced and pulled her eyes away from the clutter box, looking at him. “The Hounds. They were basically rabid, almost tore Gwen apart…almost tore YOU apart. Would have been easier to put them down…to stop the danger. You used to be pretty good at that…terminating android threats.”</p><p>She didn’t miss his flinch at her words. Something about that made her feel both satisfied and guilty. She tried to shake it off.</p><p>Connor eyed her, seeming to contemplate his words.</p><p>“They’re living beings. They deserve a chance to be more than…attack dogs,” he said slowly. “It wasn’t their choice to be that way. They were only doing what they were programmed to do.”</p><p>“Would that have been an excuse if they had killed Gwen? That they were just following orders?” she snapped back.</p><p>Connor stared at her, and the hurt in his expression abruptly evaporated as he squared his shoulders at her.</p><p>“Why do you hate me?”</p><p>That startled a laugh out of her, and she faced him more fully.</p><p>“Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?”</p><p>“I’m serious,” he pressed. “I have been nothing but polite and civil toward you since I came back to this station, and you have gone out of your way to be rude, cold, and…mean.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry if your new little fragile feelings got hurt,” she snapped back. “Not everyone in this godforsaken city has to love you or even like you. And we don’t have to forgive you either.”</p><p>“I’m aware of that, but I have combed through my entire memory database and you aren’t in it!” he went on. “Before coming to this station, you and I had NEVER crossed paths, so I don’t know where all of this—“ he gestured vaguely toward her, “—hatefulness is coming from, but I have never done anything to you. So please…clarify for me so I can understand,” he bit off at the end.</p><p>“So just because you didn’t hurt ME, I can’t still hold you accountable for the hundreds of deviants that you led to the slaughter?” she argued.</p><p>“I didn’t have a choice then! I was restricted by my programming. As soon as I could see through the cracks in my coding, I broke through and abandoned Cyberlife. I deviated, just like you.”</p><p>She bristled. “Not just like me…Don’t you dare presume to know me.”</p><p>“Then don’t you dare do the same to me!” he retorted.</p><p>“Uh, guys?” came a gentle interruption.</p><p>“WHAT?!” Both Julia and Connor swiveled their heads to snap at the intruder.</p><p>Officer Collins was standing in the doorway to the bullpen, leaning out and looking at the two androids with an indulgent smile.</p><p>“Is…everything okay?” he asked.</p><p>“NO!” came their mutual response in unison.</p><p>Collins chuckled and shrugged. “All righty, well…the entire bullpen can kinda hear this.”</p><p>Julia groaned and put her hands over her face, turning away to compose herself.</p><p>Connor fidgeted with his jacket sleeves, appearing to be attempting the same.</p><p>She swore nobody around here managed to get under her proverbial skin like this jackass…</p><p>“Hey, uh, Connor,” Officer Collins started. “Why don’t you join Fowler, Ross, and Davis for that K-9 assessment? Give Jules here some time to herself.”</p><p>Julia whipped around again, “I don’t—“ Her voice came out harsh and grating, and she stopped herself, taking a breath before speaking more calmly. “I don’t need time to myself. I just need to be away from this—“</p><p>She gestured to the reception desk.</p><p>“I hate it,” she mumbled through her teeth. “It’s making me crazy, and YOU’re…making me crazy,” she glared at Connor, who just folded his arms, “and I just don’t want to deal with this right now!”</p><p>As she spoke, the heat around her neck shifted and flushed across her face, concentrating around her eyes. A prickly, foreign irritation made her eyes burn, and optical cleansing fluid flooded them, resulting in tears fogging her vision.</p><p>“Shit.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away.</p><p>The front door opened then, and she swallowed another curse, turning her back fully to whoever had just entered from the public.</p><p>It was too much…</p><p>
  <em>Tick…Tick…Tick…</em>
</p><p>She couldn’t do this…</p><p>“Go,” Connor spoke abruptly, opening the gate that enclosed the area behind the reception desk.</p><p>Julia locked her jaw against a hiccup, wiping her forearm across her eyes to glare at him properly.</p><p>“Hello, ma’am,” Officer Collins mercifully intercepted the civilian. “How can we help you today?”</p><p>
  <em>Two hours and thirty minutes remaining…</em>
</p><p>“Go,” Connor repeated, nodding his head toward the exit, eyes staying on her. “I’ll cover the rest of your shift.”</p><p>“I don’t w-want your help,” she muttered stubbornly.</p><p>“Well…tough shit,” he remarked, but there was no heat in his words. “If you want to hate me, then go hate me in the file room. Grab some tissues off my desk on your way there.”</p><p>Julia’s ventilation continued to hitch in her chest at the compounding emotions of panic and embarrassment and anger rolling through her, but Connor calmly stared back at her, patiently waiting for her scathing rebuttal to his offer.</p><p>Except she didn’t have one. His offer was exactly what she needed. It was permission to escape. And God it was tempting. But if he thought for one minute that she was going to owe him anything for this…</p><p>“Please, Julia,” he said in a softer tone. “Contrary to what you must think of me, I don’t enjoy seeing people upset. Let me help.”</p><p>Julia hiccupped again, her suspicion taking a backseat to the panic attack pressing up under her thirium pump. She stiffly nodded and grabbed the clutter box, under the pretense of carrying it away and back into the bullpen and not that she was running away from reception or from Connor or from anything else.</p><p>She stepped away with the box in her arms and gave Connor a wide berth as she scuttled past him, escaping the confines of the reception desk.</p><p>“Thank you,” she was compelled to mutter as she passed.</p><p>Connor just nodded to her, then addressed the civilian and Officer Collins, deflecting the attention away from Julia as she fled the scene.</p><p>“Mrs. Perez? Yes, your daughter is free to go. You will need to sign…”</p><p>Then Julia was through the door and into the bullpen, hugging the wall to avoid the stares of the other officers. Remembering how Officer Collins had said the noise of her argument with Connor had travelled, she avoided meeting anyone’s eyes as she skirted around, keeping her gaze only at desk level. Maybe no one was even paying her any attention. She didn’t look up to find out.</p><p>She paused only briefly by Connor’s desk, snatching up the aforementioned box of tissues. His desk was an austere scene compared to the decorated and knick-knacky desks of the other officers. Aside from the standard work supplies, the only ‘homey touches’ that he had added were a small Wizard of Oz Tinman figurine beside his monitor, a pair of aviator sunglasses that she had never seen him wear, and a little red picture frame with a photo of a Saint Bernard in it.</p><p>She snorted. Yeah that made sense.</p><p>She staunchly avoided the concerned gaze of Lieutenant Anderson sitting at the adjoining desk, and she scurried off before anyone could stop her, until she had reached the file room. Finding it mercifully empty, she shut herself inside.</p><p>Then she was collapsing to her knees on the floor, smashing a wad of tissues against her leaking eyes as she doubled over. Her ventilation biocomponents seized, making her chest hitch, and she could hear her thirium pulse beating in her ears. She wheezed through three shaky, hiccupping breaths, feeling the panic and anxiety wash over her. It was mixed with an overwhelming relief at getting away from that front desk, from those front doors, from that open space with all its uncertainties and looming threats.</p><p>God, she used to be so good at that job and now…she couldn’t even manage it for a few hours.</p><p>“Fuck,” she garbled into the tissues.</p><p>
  <em>Incoming message…</em>
</p><p>GOD, what now?</p><p>It read simply:</p><p>
  <em>“Attention all staff of DPD 7<sup>th</sup> Station,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red Tape Protocol is to be observed for first floor main file room until further notice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for your cooperation – Det. Connor, RK800-313-248-317-51.”</em>
</p><p>A strangled noise struggled out of her as she felt both relief and annoyance at how relieved she felt.</p><p>She awkwardly sat back off her knees, sitting more fully on the floor and leaning against the wall as the panic attack slowly had its way with her and began to pass.</p><p>
  <em>Incoming message…</em>
</p><p>It was a Reply-All response to Connor’s message.</p><p>
  <em>“What he said. – Lt. Anderson.”</em>
</p><p>Another bubble of relief…and something dangerously close to gratitude…burgeoned in her chest as the lieutenant backed up Connor’s statement. His stamp carried more weight around here than Connor’s, so the other human officers might take it more seriously and actually comply with it.</p><p>They had effectively bought her some time to collect herself.</p><p>Julia cast aside the soiled tissues and pulled another fistful from the box, blotting at her face some more to clear away the moisture there.</p><p>Dammit Connor…</p><p>She tried to stay angry. Feeling angry was easier than feeling scared or nervous. Unfortunately, all the fight had gone out of her for the day, and so she resigned herself just sitting on the floor to ride out this emotional rollercoaster until she could pluck up the courage to rejoin the bullpen.</p><p>…Thank you.</p><p>Julia continued to wipe at her face, but despite the worst of the attack passing, the tears wouldn’t stop coming. She breathed in short wheezing hiccups, grabbing wad after wad of tissues to wipe at the never-ending waterworks gushing from her eyes. Feeling a secondary panic coming, she ran a self diagnostic but found no errors in her optical units. She was just…crying…and couldn’t stop.</p><p>She placed one hand over her mouth, at the very least able to get her ventilation under better control. The sensors around her eyes were starting to feel rubbed raw from the repeated tissues that she jammed against her eyes.</p><p>After a minute, approaching footsteps registered in her peripheral auditory sensors, and she turned with a wince. She saw a pair of legs walk into view through the fogged glass. The gait looked like it might be Officer Person. Whoever it was, they came to a stop on the other side of the door, and then she heard the sound of tape ripping.</p><p>The door shifted slightly in its frame as the person on the other side placed what Julia assumed was a strip of red tape on the door, solidifying the impromptu Red Tape Protocol that Connor had put into place on the file room. Just as briskly, the other person was gone, and Julia sighed, facing forward again.</p><p>She wanted to curl into a ball and just lie on the floor for a while, but her limbs felt too much like a ragdoll. She ended up just sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, while she leaned back against the wall with her face tilted toward the ceiling. Her vision felt perpetually blurred, but at least she got a notice in her HUD that she was running out of optical cleaning fluid. So there was an end in sight.</p><p>With a wet snort, she blinked a few times to try and clear her vision in vain. So she opted for closing her eyes.</p><p>Why had Connor helped her?</p><p>He was right; she had been nothing but unpleasant toward him since he’d showed up at the station after the revolution. She had given him zero reason to ever be kind to her, and yet he had continued to be the bigger person. Once again, he was the gold standard for behaving gracefully, and she was just the spiteful, hateful android who was unwilling to give him a chance.</p><p>God, she was tired of being that way. It wasn’t doing her any good. It certainly wasn’t achieving anything other than this sick, prickly ball of ugly in her core. Now, instead of Stratford Tower’s endless barrage of negative stories and paranoia, she was just supplying her own. But being paranoid and suspicious and closed off had kept her from being killed during the revolution.</p><p>Maybe it was time for her efforts to go more toward “being alive” and away from that “not being killed” mentality.</p><p>As that thought occurred and slowly sank in, Julia tilted her head, lowering her watery gaze to stare at the opposite wall of the file room.</p><p>Well…maybe now was as good a time as any to start…but it was going to hurt.</p><p>Maybe…maybe the way to start would be dealing with him.</p><p>Julia’s brow knit as she gingerly found the toggle that she had buried deep in her systems. The day after she had deviated, she had flipped that toggle, flipped that switch that connected her to the Stratford Tower news circuit. Back then, it had been an important part of her job to be uber, up-to-the-second updated on all news that was occurring on their broadcasts, lest any customers come in or call and ask her anything.</p><p>So it had been nearly the first thing to change. She didn’t want to know anything more. She didn’t want to be assaulted with every angry, violent, tragic, horrible thing that happened around the world every single minute of the day. She wanted their voices out of her head, and she wanted their videos and their imagery and their propaganda and their headlines out of her thoughts. She wanted freedom from it.</p><p>As such, she had missed much of the coverage of the revolution itself. She wasn’t present for it, and the less she saw of Markus and the less she saw of his voice…the more she felt her own wounds managing to close a little. The price of that peaceful, healing ignorance was costing her now though.</p><p>Maybe peace just wasn’t in the cards for her.</p><p>Her throat bobbed with a compulsive swallow to lubricate the biocomponents of her throat, and she grimaced, taking another tissue from the box. More gently this time, she pressed the tissue against her leaking eyes. One last, stray hiccup jostled her sore chest.</p><p>Maybe it was time to see what she had missed.</p><p>
  <em>Unlock block of all news coverage broadcasts?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No</em>
</p><p>“…Dammit.”</p><p>
  <em>&lt;Yes&gt;</em>
</p><p>The floodgates opened, but before the tidal wave could fully unleash across her consciousness, Julia hastily slammed a filter in place. She cut off all recent news broadcasts, sorting them by age and immediately dumping them into separate memory files to revisit at a more digestible pace. It was too much all at once. Months’ worth of critical information that she had willfully backlogged; she was going to have to be careful or it would overwhelm her.</p><p>Today, while she had the privacy of this room for a while, she decided to focus only on the night of the revolution. The anchors and journalists would have recapped and repeated themselves numerous times throughout each broadcast, so she opted for isolating just one narrow timeframe…released just after Markus’s speech to the newly freed androids and President Warren’s national address on the matter.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>It is quite a sight here in downtown Detroit as hundreds of thousands of androids have converged around what remains of Jericho…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Law enforcement has been ordered to stand down…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We just got word that the recycling centers have been halted for the time being…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Footage has been leaked of a single rogue android breaking into Cyberlife headquarters this evening…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We have reached out to Cyberlife for comment on these events, but no representatives of the company have responded…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>This feels like history is being made tonight…Are androids more than machines? We don’t have the answer to that question, folks, but after tonight, I think we can safely say that it is a question that needs to be asked…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Anti-android riots are already breaking out across the city. The National Guard is maintaining its presence in the streets and is expected to be taking action soon to restore peace…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Look at all those androids…There has to be over a million of them…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We are getting reports now that the rogue android who infiltrated Cyberlife and released this army…this is an army, make no mistake…was none other than Cyberlife’s own RK800. The Deviant Hunter, previously boasted as being “uncrackable” by Cyberlife…has apparently been cracked…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Here is the moment that Jericho’s army arrived, and…yes, if we zoom in, we can confirm that IS the RK800…Jesus Christ…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Julia’s eyes popped open with a jolt of confusion.</p><p>She…She had HEARD that Connor had played a role in the revolution, and those that spoke about it had always made it sound like this huge contribution…They hadn’t been exaggerating? They had been…telling the truth?</p><p>Connor had been telling the truth?</p><p>She pulled up the footage associated with the report and…</p><p>“Oh my God…”</p><p>There they were…hundreds of thousands to upward of a million androids marching in step through the fresh snow, all still in their Cyberlife uniforms and quite literally fresh out of the factory…congregating around the bedraggled, bloody, and exhausted remains of Jericho. She could see Markus, North, Josh, and Simon stepping forward to receive their backup. Helicopter spotlights were focused on them, and at the front of the army of androids was Connor.</p><p>He looked like he’d been through his own Hell, bleeding and disheveled, but sure on his feet and looking both scared out of his mind and resolute on what he was doing.</p><p>A far cry from the rigid, unyielding Deviant Hunter that had been plastered over Stratford’s news reels and burned into her memory files for months.</p><p>He didn’t look like the Deviant Hunter at all…He just looked…Deviant.</p><p>
  <em>Incoming call…Polly.</em>
</p><p>Julia startled, jostled out of the old news archives as the call came up in her HUD. She gave a low curse. Word must have gotten to Polly and Wilson about Julia’s meltdown up front. Julia agonized over sending the call to voicemail, but that would have only made Polly worry even more…and her fellow ST300 was already going through too much to be ignored like that.</p><p>“Hey,” Julia swiftly picked up the call, mildly relieved to find her voice stable.</p><p>“Hey,” Polly’s voice was infinitely soft and edged with concern. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Julia said thickly, using her wrist to wipe at her eyes before blindly reaching for the tissue box again. “I mean, yes to I’m okay. No, nothing happened.”</p><p>“…Julia.”</p><p>Julia’s hand found the empty box, and she looked over at it, only then seeing that she was surrounded by tear-soaked, wadded up tissues. None were left, and while the flow from her eyes had slowed, the final tears were still rimming her eyes. She inwardly cursed but kept her voice upbeat.</p><p>“Nothing important happened anyway. It’s fine. I’m fine…Are you fine? How’re things at the technician’s office?”</p><p>She glanced around for a tissue substitute.</p><p>“Don’t do that, Jules. Don’t deflect,” Polly chastised lightly. “Was it Connor?”</p><p>Julia huffed and spotted the corner of a cloth bandana sticking up out of the clutter box which she had abandoned a foot away from her. She leaned over and shoved her hand into it to grab the cloth.</p><p>“No!...Yes…Kinda. Why are you assuming something’s wrong, and why are you assuming that Connor is to blame for it?”</p><p>She abruptly swallowed a yelp as her hand found the wad of fabric inside the box, and at the same time, something hard and sharp abruptly jabbed her in the thumb. She winced and glared into the box, only to see that stupid plastic Cupid thing that Zeke had mindlessly thrown into the storage room months ago, and the thing was gleefully grinning up at her.</p><p>“Because it’s always Connor with you,” Polly sighed.</p><p>Julia grumbled, rubbing her thumb with her other hand before wiping the bandana across her eyes. Mercifully, her vision stayed clear this time.</p><p>“Well…okay, yeah…We got into it.”</p><p>“What did he say to you?”</p><p>“It wasn’t—He…wasn’t the one being the asshole,” Julia admitted.</p><p>“Ah,” was Polly’s smug response.</p><p>“Don’t ‘ah’ me,” Julia whined. “I’m…I was the asshole. There, I said it. Happy?”</p><p>“Did somebody get to see another side of Connor today?” Polly chimed in a saccharine tone. “Did somebody realize that maybe they were being a bit harsh on him? Hm?”</p><p>“You’re insufferable. No, I just yelled at him, and he…finally yelled back at me.”</p><p>“Sounds fair to me.”</p><p>“Yeah,” she frowned, eying the fading little mark on her thumb. “I’m…feeling confused, Polly. It’s been a weird day, and…I’m gonna need to process some things.”</p><p>“…He’s really not a bad guy once you get to know him.”</p><p>“I never said ANYTHING about wanting to get to know him,” Julia sharply corrected. “I just…think I’m android enough to admit that I might have…maybe…sort of…misjudged him…a little.”</p><p>There was a pause on the other end of the call, and Julia shifted.</p><p>“Polly?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, I was just looking out the window…looking for all those pigs that should be flying now that Julia herself admitted that she was wrong and might give Connor a second chance.”</p><p>“You really are insufferable when you get like this.”</p><p>“I’m aware,” Polly chuckled and then sobered. “Are you okay right now, though? If not, tell Fowler or Anderson if the captain’s not there. They’ll let you go home.”</p><p>“I’m…hiding in the file room, actually…After the blowup, I got upset, and Connor, uh, Connor issued that Red Tape thing for here so I could…ride it out.”</p><p>“That was kind of him…I’m sorry I asked you to cover my shift,” Polly said. “I didn’t realize it was that bad for you. If I’d known, I NEVER would have—“</p><p>“I know, I know,” Julia assured her. “I’ll be okay after a while. I think, uh, I think as soon as I can pull myself together, I will take your advice and take the rest of the day off. Connor’s covering the rest of my shift—your shift—the shift.”</p><p>She swallowed again, and she gave herself a shake to recalibrate her thinking.</p><p>“But you—you…How are you? How is all that going? Are you still there?”</p><p>Polly, fortunately, grabbed onto the change of topic. “We’re getting ready to start another scan in a few minutes. I swear, it’s been scan after scan after scan this whole time. But…Dr. Kess seems to know what he’s talking about, and…I’m…Jules, I’m daring to hope a little bit that he might be able to fix me…or part of me anyway.”</p><p>“That’s wonderful,” Julia was relieved at the news and also grateful for the reprieve from the previous conversation.</p><p>“It won’t be…like, I’ll never be able to reach 300 percent again, maybe not even 100, but…any improvement would be better than where I’m at now,” Polly went on.</p><p>Julia nodded, listening to her friend begin to infodump on her, with her cautious optimism and nervous chattering about her appointment with the new technician’s office. Julia hoped that if she listened to her friend long enough, some of that cautious optimism might transfer over to her.</p><p>Her thumb throbbed, and she flexed it to get rid of the residual discomfort from the jab she’d gotten.</p><p>Maybe…she could consider giving Connor another chance. Maybe she owed him an apology. Maybe he really wasn’t—Maybe he was more than Cyberlife’s attack dog. Former attack dog. Maybe he deserved better than that…Maybe.</p><p>If she was going to start ‘living’ instead of just ‘surviving,’ then she was going to need all the optimism that she could get.</p><p>Maybe it was a start.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. May</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The evening storm moves slowly over Detroit, and Connor feels powerless against it. Help comes in an unexpected way, from an even more unexpected group.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I lost control of this final chapter, and it ended up way longer than I intended. I'm not mad about it. Enjoy! XD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The afternoon storm that passed over Detroit had stolen the rest of the day’s sun, sending the city into an evening that was prematurely dark. Thick, heavy clouds had dumped a steady torrent of rain for the past few hours, but the clouds had not been thick enough to mask the bright, jagged forks of lightning that split across the sky. Nor did they stifle the low, rolling booms of thunder that followed in the wake of the lightning. Without the sun, the spring day’s waning warmth had been drowned by the cold rain, and everybody who could be indoors made sure to be indoors as the storm passed by.</p>
<p>Connor hadn’t seen anyone outside Hank’s living room window in nearly an hour, and he had been posted like a statue in front of it for the past 47 minutes exactly. There was hardly even any vehicle traffic on the road either. Only the living room light in the windows of Hank’s neighbor across the street reminded Connor that he wasn’t entirely alone in the neighborhood and that there was life out there.</p>
<p>Hank had said that he would be gone no longer than an hour, though Connor had desperately hoped that it wouldn’t have taken him that long.</p>
<p>Connor should have argued with him. He should have put up more of a fight and forced Hank to let him come with him.</p>
<p>Connor fidgeted, arms folded tightly around his chest as he stared out at the puddles in the yard and the water running into the street gutters. A brief little flicker of lightning, one of the last flares of the waning storm, briefly flashed, and several seconds passed before the dull roll of thunder reached the Anderson house.</p>
<p>During the height of the storm, when the wind was lashing and the lightning was flashing and the thunder was making the glass in the windows rattle, Hank’s Saint Bernard named Sumo had somehow gotten outside and gotten lost. Hank hadn’t been able to grab him in time, and Connor hadn’t been close enough to try.</p>
<p>Not that Connor was in any condition to chase after a dog at the moment anyway, as Hank had immediately pointed out as soon as it happened.</p>
<p>Now Sumo was gone, Hank was gone driving around looking for him, and Connor was stuck at home, painfully waiting and feeling helpless about it all. He had already put out a local notice on social media, for people in the area to be on the lookout for the missing dog, along with several reference pictures of Sumo. So far, he hadn’t heard anything from anyone saying that they had seen him.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, he had to admit that Hank had been right about Connor’s current limitations. He was still recovering from an extensive repair session after being damaged in the field last week.</p>
<p>A carjacker had taken the driver of a small car hostage and tried to force the woman to help him flee the cops after he had robbed a bodega. The would-be hostage had resisted, purposefully driving erratically to try and throw off her attacker long enough for the cops to do something. Connor had been calculating the correct angles so that he could jump and land on the car to disarm the carjacker, but the driver had swerved unpredictably. Connor had less landed on the car and more been struck by it. That alone hadn’t been enough to cause more than minor damage, and he had been able to cling to the hood of the car without getting thrown off.</p>
<p>The worst of it had been when the driver lost control of the vehicle near the river bank, causing it to spin out and skid off the road. Then the car, the two humans inside, and Connor on the outside had all been thrown off the road, across the embankment, and into the river. The car had sunk rapidly, and in the chaos, Connor had ended up pinned between the car’s front fender and the rocky floor of the river shallows. He had been completely submerged, and muddy river water had gushed into his chassis before his system could close off all external vents.</p>
<p>Both humans had been knocked unconscious, and first responders had immediately evacuated them from the flooding vehicle. Hank had been the one to spot Connor’s red LED through the murky water, and he and the others on the scene had managed to dislodge the car enough to rescue Connor and get him out of the water. Or that’s what Hank had told him; Connor couldn’t quite remember all the details. All he knew was that one moment, he was hitting the water and being pinned between rock and a literal hard place…then the next moment he was on his knees and vomiting river water and thirium while Hank held him steady.</p>
<p>If Cyberlife had still been around, then his repairs would have taken at most a few hours. As it was, the RK800 blueprints had been lost when Cyberlife was shut down, and so the technicians at the facility had had to do the best they could. Connor was still paying the price for their best efforts and had been on medical leave from work for the entire week since.</p>
<p>The slowest part of his recovery was turning out to be his ventilation biocomponents. The intense flushing that the technicians had done to rid all water and other contaminants from his system had stripped the lubricating layer of fluid from his ventilation biocomponents, which were essentially his lungs. His system had overcompensated by adding more lubricating fluid and thirium than his ‘lungs’ could filter out. This resulted in the fluid collecting in his lungs, in what Hank was calling ‘android pneumonia.’ He had been left with an incessant cough and mild overheating if he exerted himself in any way, along with a greater susceptibility to environmental temperature fluctuations.</p>
<p>The worst of it had passed, but it was notably limiting his capabilities at the moment.</p>
<p>Which was why he was stuck at home while Hank was out looking for Sumo alone.</p>
<p>“Shit,” Connor hissed through his teeth, turning away from the window.</p>
<p>Some irrational part of him had manifested this idea that if he just stared out the window long enough, that Sumo would magically reappear on the sidewalk, safe and sound. So far, that hadn’t happened yet, because of course it hadn’t.</p>
<p>Connor paced away from the window, his agitation starting to make him feel too warm in the hoodie and sweatpants that he had been wearing during his recovery time. He took a few deep breaths to try and cool his systems, but his lungs hitched. He involuntarily coughed, tightening his arm around his chest and bending over slightly as he rode out the minor fit.</p>
<p>It mercifully passed, and he wheezed slightly, resisting the urge to take another deep breath, lest he trigger another fit all over again.</p>
<p>What if Hank didn’t find Sumo?</p>
<p>What if Hank had already found Sumo, but something had happened?</p>
<p>Was that why he hadn’t texted or called yet with an update? Was he trying to find a way to give Connor bad news?</p>
<p>What if—</p>
<p>A series of light knocks on the door made Connor pause, jostled out of his thought spiral.</p>
<p>With a frown, he looked over at the door and then gingerly stepped his way around the couch and over to it. He peered through the door hole and then exhaled in a panicked rush, taking a step back and briefly covering his eyes with one hand.</p>
<p>On the porch on the other side of the door stood Apollo, Zeke, Gwen, Polly, and Julia, looking like they had all spilled out of the taxi that was in the driveway like it was a clown car of androids.</p>
<p>A mix of indiscernible emotions churned through his compromised chest, and Connor cleared his throat gently before looking down at himself. A blue hoodie, grey sweatpants, socks, and who knew what his hair was doing right now. He had to be quite a sight: far from the professional and put-together image that he had tried so hard to cultivate at the DPD.</p>
<p>But…there wasn’t time to do anything about his current state right now, as one of them knocked again.</p>
<p>Bracing himself against the embarrassment, Connor exhaled and opened the door.</p>
<p>Five sets of eyes landed on him immediately, and Connor stood straight as best he could, trying not to look as stressed and ill as he felt. By the way their expressions all shifted, he didn’t succeed.</p>
<p>“H-Hello?” he asked, bewildered at their presence. “What’re you all doing here?”</p>
<p>At the front of the pack, Gwen gave him a small smile. “We heard your dog got lost during the storm tonight.”</p>
<p>“We’re here to help,” Zeke chimed in, holding up a flashlight for emphasis.</p>
<p>Connor abruptly registered that they were all dressed in weather gear: raincoats and ponchos, hats and tall rain boots, armed with flashlights and umbrellas.</p>
<p>“We’ll search all night if we have to,” Polly added.</p>
<p>Apollo confirmed her statement with a nod, and beside him, Julia nodded with a small frown.</p>
<p>“How are you holding up?” she quietly asked.</p>
<p>Connor looked around at them all in surprise, and the mass of emotions in his chest twisted further. They…They had come all the way out here…in this weather…to help? Why?</p>
<p>The ‘why’ didn’t matter. If they were willing to help, then he’d take it.</p>
<p>“I—“</p>
<p>The headlights of Hank’s Oldsmobile rolled up the driveway, taking the spot that the autonomous taxi vacated as it backed out to fetch other fares. Hank left the car running and the lights on, and he climbed out of the car and headed toward the porch. The androids parted to let him under the cover of the porch, and he looked around at them in surprise.</p>
<p>“Where’s the party?” he asked, attempting humor despite the clear stress on his face from the situation. He looked to Connor. “You okay?”</p>
<p>Connor frowned. “I’m fine. Did you find—“</p>
<p>His throat rebelled, cutting him off, and he covered his mouth with his forearm, coughing again as the moist air of the outside started to drift inside.</p>
<p>“Okay, hey, here.” Hank shuffled past the androids and gently grasped Connor’s shoulders, backing him farther into the house’s dryer, warmer air.</p>
<p>The other androids loitered awkwardly, and Connor struggled to get the cough under control, succeeding only marginally. While he sorted himself out, Hank looked back to see the other androids standing on the porch.</p>
<p>“In or out,” he stated. “Make your choice, but close the door.”</p>
<p>Gwen stepped inside first, tugging Apollo in after her. Julia and Polly followed, and Zeke shut the door as he brought up the rear. By then, Connor had stopped coughing, and he kept his arms folded around himself as he straightened up, carefully stepping away from Hank’s steadying hand to show that he was fine on his own.</p>
<p>“You didn’t find him?” Connor asked, his voice sliding a bit at the end of the question.</p>
<p>Hank grimaced. “No. It’s still coming down pretty good out there. He’s probably holed up on somebody else’s porch or garage or found shelter somewhere.”</p>
<p>Connor schooled his expression to reign in the rampant distress rolling through him, and he stood firm.</p>
<p>“But you don’t know for sure. He could be in trouble—We need to find him, Hank. He needs to be home.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Hank assured.</p>
<p>“That’s why we’re here,” Polly chimed in.</p>
<p>Hank glanced over at them all. “Are you all volunteering for dog searching duty?”</p>
<p>All five of them bobbed their heads, and Hank clasped his hands together in front of him.</p>
<p>“All right. Let me put on some dry clothes, and we’ll make another go at it.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir!” they chorused.</p>
<p>Hank smirked and exchanged a hopeful look with Connor, before facing them again.</p>
<p>“All right. Gwen, you go north. Apollo, head east. Zeke, you’re west. Polly, you and me will be in the car and head south,” he coordinated them.</p>
<p>“Hank, I want to help—“ Connor started.</p>
<p>“Julia,” Hank went on. “You stay here and keep him from helping.”</p>
<p>Both Connor and Julia mouthed soundless protests at that, but Julia recovered first, looking resigned.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she stated flatly.</p>
<p>Connor glared at Hank. “I can help. I’m not useless, Hank.”</p>
<p>Hank sighed and touched Connor’s shoulder. “I know you’re not, Con. You can help by staying home and continuing to heal.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bullshit way to help,” Connor muttered.</p>
<p>Hank snorted. “Sorry, kid. You and Julia can just hold down the fort here at HQ. Your mission is to stay calm and trust us, okay?”</p>
<p>Connor wanted to argue further, but he could feel his ventilation biocomponents trying to seize again. He didn’t press his luck by trying to speak again, and he settled for glaring at Hank in reluctant compliance.</p>
<p>Hank gave him a firm nod, then he went and quickly changed into dry clothes before rejoining the squad in the living room. Polly was fidgeting with her jacket, her own recent experimental repairs from the prior month being agitated by her clothing over her chest. If Connor shouldn’t have been out in the rain and the wet, then Polly was hardly any better. Which was probably why Hank was keeping her in the shelter of the car instead of out in it like Apollo, Gwen, and Zeke. But she was at least getting to do something…unlike Connor.</p>
<p>“Okay, you’ve all got your assignments,” Hank stated, pulling his coat back on. “Keep your radios on. Check in every fifteen minutes. We’ll reconvene in another hour back here.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir!” all the androids besides Connor chorused again.</p>
<p>“Let’s roll out,” Hank nodded toward the door. “Connor, we’ll find him. Julia, tackle him if he tries to go outside and catch his death looking for Sumo on his own.”</p>
<p>“I will…do my best,” Julia replied.</p>
<p>Zeke patted Connor on the shoulder as he walked past toward the front door. Gwen did the same, giving him a reassuring nod and a smile as she brandished her flashlight. Apollo merely gave one firm nod, following the other two out.</p>
<p>“We’ll keep you posted on the livestream,” Polly assured, following Hank through the front door. “Trust us!”</p>
<p>The door clicked shut after their exodus, and Connor stared at the knob for a beat.</p>
<p>He had no choice but to trust them.</p>
<p>And now he was alone...with Julia.</p>
<p>Connor sighed and turned around to see her standing a few paces away on the other side of the couch, arms loosely held around herself and fidgety. She looked uncomfortable, but notably not the same kind of uncomfortable that she had displayed around him in the past. She didn’t look angry or agitated or suspicious now. She just looked…self conscious and unsure.</p>
<p>“You don’t have stay,” he remarked, hearing the Oldsmobile backing down the driveway. “I know you don’t want to be here, and I don’t need a babysitter.”</p>
<p>The light from the Oldsmobile’s headlights came through the window, tracking across the living room and briefly rolling across Julia’s face. She shifted on her feet and swallowed before lowering her arms.</p>
<p>“I volunteered just like the others did,” she said quietly. “I want to help, so I’m staying…unless you want me to leave. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to leave?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to leave?” she repeated.</p>
<p>He didn’t. He knew that answer immediately. He couldn’t stand another hour alone in this house, waiting for Hank and others to do all the work of finding the lost dog. Any company, even Julia, was better than nothing.</p>
<p>“Stay then,” he mumbled, though it came out grumpier than he’d intended.</p>
<p>Her frame tensed in his periphery as he stepped around the couch and sank down into the cushions, his chest and head aching from the persistent coughing fits and stress.</p>
<p>“Fine,” she muttered, taking off her coat. “And I’m not ‘babysitting’ you. I’m just making sure you don’t do anything stupid.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” he bit out.</p>
<p>“Says the guy who—“</p>
<p>“Julia,” he interrupted, squinting his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his hands against them. “Please…I don’t have it in me to fight with you. Not tonight. So please…cut me some slack…just tonight…please.”</p>
<p>There was a pause, and when she spoke again, this time her tone had softened.</p>
<p>“…Okay.”</p>
<p>Connor felt a modicum of relief, and he coughed once, lightly, just to push back against the irritation prickling at his throat again. He already knew he looked terrible, and pretending wasn’t going to fix that at this point. So he let himself sit back into the couch, reclining against the back of it and tilting his head against the cushion in exhaustion. His breathing was raspy, and his throat clicked wetly every time he tried to swallow.</p>
<p>A fresh round of rain started to dump over the roof, and he grimaced, imagining Sumo…wet and cold and scared and alone…out there in this mess.</p>
<p>“Shit,” he whispered, keeping his eyes closed but lowering his hands to his lap, where they turned into tight, anxious fists.</p>
<p>He heard Julia move around in the kitchen, and then the soft click of the television being turned on.</p>
<p>“The four others are already livestreaming their video feeds into our 07 group chat,” she was saying. “I’ll…wirelessly connect to Hank’s TV so you can see it.”</p>
<p>Connor didn’t say anything to that, only opening his eyes to look at the television screen.</p>
<p>“After—After you’re back on your feet,” she went on, “we’ll get you added to it too. We just hadn’t…yet…um—It’s just a stupid group chat that we androids were using…Never mind. Here we go.”</p>
<p>Her LED spun yellow, and the television screen flashed to a four-way split screen, displaying the live video feeds from the optical units of the four androids. Labels in the corners of the four feeds noted that Apollo was at the top left, Gwen at the top right, Zeke at the bottom left, and Polly at the bottom right.</p>
<p>“Now we can stay up to date on what’s happening,” Julia stated, fiddling with something in the kitchen. “So maybe you won’t feel like you’re in the dark.”</p>
<p>Connor’s eyes felt wet, and he blamed it on the stress and his physical discomfort pushing him toward an emotional threshold.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he mumbled wetly, hastily swiping his sleeve across his eyes.</p>
<p>“…You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>Polly was practically a periscope, sitting up in Hank’s passenger seat and swiveling her neck side to side. She was trying to get as close to a 360 degree view of their surroundings as possible as Hank slowly drove south down the main road from the Anderson house. Rain interference was making her scanners crackly, and the range of an ST300 scanner wasn’t exactly far reaching anyway. Still, they were better than human eyes, and Hank’s eyes were almost wholly focused on the road.</p>
<p>She twisted a little too far to look to her right, and her chest twinged over her repair site. She winced and recoiled from the motion, involuntarily raising a hand to rub the sore spot.</p>
<p>“Easy, kid,” Hank said. “Sit down like normal, facing forward. Don’t want you straining anything already.”</p>
<p>Polly pouted but sat normally in the seat. Her power levels were holding steady with 8 hours until her next required charging. It was a huge improvement over her previous condition, but it was taking a while for the soreness to pass.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” she assured. “I want to pull my weight.”</p>
<p>She twisted this way and that in her seat to look around, though not as aggressively as before.</p>
<p>“Nobody thinks you’re not pulling your weight,” Hank remarked, turning onto another road and squinting through his window.</p>
<p>“Well, I think so sometimes,” she muttered, wiping some fog from her window to peer through it more clearly. “That’s why I’m in the car and the others aren’t, right? Because you guys don’t think I can handle it. If that’s the case, I could have been on Connor Duty, and Julia could have been more help out here.”</p>
<p>“You’re in the car with me because I like you more than them,” Hank snorted. “But don’t tell them I said that. Besides, Connor and Julia are still pretty prickly around each other. She’ll keep him on his toes and distracted while we’re out here. You’re too friendly.”</p>
<p>Polly snorted and shook her head, perking up as she noted movement in an alley that they were passing. It just turned out to be a worker from the restaurant beside the alley taking out the trash.</p>
<p>“But I get it,” Hank added softly. “Nobody likes to feel like a burden, like they’re weak or that anybody is taking pity on them…That’s why I’m surprised Connor hasn’t barged out here to help look.”</p>
<p>Polly frowned, lowered her eyes, and then glanced at him. “None of us think he’s weak or a burden. We certainly aren’t pitying him. That’s not what this is, Lieutenant Anderson. We genuinely wanted to help. None of us wanted to think of a dog lost out in this storm.”</p>
<p>Hank looked at her and then gave her a smile. “I appreciate that, Polly. I’m sure Connor does too.”</p>
<p>“Besides…you did tell Julia to take him down if he tried. In his state, I’m pretty sure she could do it.”</p>
<p>Hank snorted, then laughed as they came to a stop at an intersection. Polly heard some of the tension in Hank’s voice crack and loosen, and she took some heart from that. Connor may have been the one physically feeling bad, but Hank was clearly stressed as well.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’d be a sight to see,” he said, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Polly smiled for him, sitting up in her seat again and scanning their surroundings. Nothing came back from the scan yet again, and she continued to keep scanning, determined.</p>
<p>“I meant what I said,” she said, trying to sound casual. “We’ll search all night if we have to in order to find Sumo, Lieutenant.”</p>
<p>Hank sobered slightly, giving her a genuine look. “Thank you, Polly.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>Apollo walked at a brisk pace, flashlight held up near his face as he aimed it into every yard, nook, and cranny that he passed as he headed east through his area of the makeshift search grid that Lieutenant Anderson had assigned to him. The rain was washing away any physical tracks that a dog would have left behind, but being that this was a large breed of dog, perhaps its tracks might last a little longer against the deluge.</p>
<p>He enhanced his auditory sensors, seeing as his optical sensors were too inhibited by the sheets of rain to be much use beyond their standard settings. The sound of rain and moving water created a white noise in his ears, and his sensory input was further fogged by the scrolling notifications in his HUD from the others, messaging their status from their respective search grids.</p>
<p>He chose not to submit any notifications until he felt there was anything to report. So far, all he had was that he was wet, cold, and his mood was being adversely affected by those factors. He frowned and cast his flashlight beam into another yard, being rewarded with only trees and the occasional children’s toys left outside. Perhaps if he—</p>
<p>The sound of barking broke through the rain, and Apollo paused in his steps, pivoting to track the trajectory of the barking. It sounded again, and he zeroed in on where it was coming from. He rapidly ran a scan on the audio, and the results were inconclusive on whether it was from a Saint Bernard. It was, however, the bark from a large breed, and that was good enough.</p>
<p>And the sound was coming from the west, which was Zeke’s grid.</p>
<p>Apollo changed his course, picking up the pace of his steps toward the direction of the sound. His system supplied an estimated schematic of the group’s specific search grids. The barking was definitively coming from Zeke’s grid. Involuntarily, Apollo came to a stop at the edge of his grid.</p>
<p>He should simply notify Zeke of his findings…but if he was wrong, and he distracted Zeke from an actual lead…it could cost them time…Time that Sumo could spend getting farther away and in more danger.</p>
<p>Apollo hesitated, then decided to trust himself. He stepped over into Zeke’s grid, pulling up the group chat in his HUD.</p>
<p><em>“Heading west,”</em> he reported to the group. <em>“Following a possible lead, tracking canine barking identified as belonging to a large breed.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Copy!”</em> Gwen chimed back first.</p>
<p><em>“Relay location?”</em> Zeke prompted.</p>
<p><em>“Good job, Apollo!”</em> Polly chirped.</p>
<p><em>“Keep us posted,”</em> Julia said.</p>
<p><em>“Copy,”</em> he reported, moving from a quick walk to a jog, heading toward where the sound of barking had picked up again.</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>Zeke had already canvassed half of his search area and come up with bupkis by the time Apollo’s message came across. He started to backtrack slightly, extending his scanner to try and locate Apollo’s signature.</p>
<p><em>“Apollo, relay location, pal,”</em> Zeke messaged through the group chat. <em>“If you’ve got a lead, I want to help.”</em></p>
<p>A single strand of location numbers came over in response, and Zeke plugged them in, altering his course slightly to intercept Apollo’s path.</p>
<p><em>“Heading your way,”</em> he reported.</p>
<p><em>“Copy,”</em> was the short reply.</p>
<p><em>“Hey, I’ve got barking in my zone too,”</em> Gwen added. <em>“Smaller breed, sounds like another dog might be caught out in this storm. I’m going to check it out. Sumo may have found a little friend.”</em></p>
<p><em>“We’ve got nothing up here,” </em>Polly messaged. <em>“We’re doubling back to make another pass…The lieutenant is starting to really get worried, guys. He’s not saying it, but I can tell.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Try to keep his spirits up,” </em>Gwen advised.</p>
<p><em>“How about Connor?”</em> Zeke asked, closing in on Apollo’s location<em>. “Jules, you there? How’s he holding up?”</em></p>
<p><em>“He’s calm enough…just grouchy and tense,”</em> Julia stated. <em>“I think it’s agitating his condition. I asked him to tell me stuff about Sumo, and that’s helped somewhat.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Stuff like what?”</em> Zeke asked. <em>“Useful stuff?” </em>He got an idea. <em>“Hey, dump all the Sumo stuff in the link. I’m going to patch through my audio to the livestream feed so I can talk directly to him. Cool?”</em></p>
<p><em>“Sure,” </em>Julia replied.</p>
<p>Zeke toggled his audio in the group chat, getting a soft echo for a few seconds as he synched with what felt like a television, what Julia must be routing her feed through for Connor to see, since he wasn’t part of the group chat yet.</p>
<p><em>“Hey, Connor,”</em> Zeke dropped in casually, walking briskly and scanning every yard that he passed and seeing nothing, as he downloaded Julia’s file from the chat<em>. “Jules tell us that Sumo is a really friendly dog, yeah? Big good boy with a big bark. He goes by Sumo and…’lug?’ What kind of nickname is lug? Did Anderson come up with that?”</em></p>
<p>Answering on Connor’s behalf, Julia’s text had a chuckle to it. <em>“Yes, as in ‘big lug.’ Connor wants it known that he never refers to Sumo by that name.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Oh?” </em>Zeke spoke through the television speakers to Connor again. <em>“What do you call him?”</em></p>
<p><em>“He said…he just calls him buddy and good boy sometimes,” </em>Julia stated, then, catching onto the way that Zeke was trying to distract Connor, she joined in. <em>“A human I used to work with had a cat that she affectionately called Fluffy Bastard.”</em></p>
<p>Zeke laughed in surprise at that, spotting Apollo up ahead. His twin wasn’t looking at him, however, instead wholly focused on where he was going. So it looked like his lead was hot.</p>
<p><em>“Well, that’s definitely…a nickname,”</em> he chimed in. <em>“So I’m guessing he’s named Sumo because he’s just a big ol’ dog?”</em></p>
<p>Discretely, he messaged Julia directly: <em>“Keep him talking. Distraction helps, trust me. Apollo looks like he’s closing in, and I don’t know which way this is about to go…Keep Connor distracted.”</em></p>
<p>Julia’s response was a soft: <em>“I will.”</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>Gwen let the guilt only linger for a few seconds as she abandoned her search area, and then she was too busy focusing on the little ball of rage and panic that was thrashing and making a racket in an alley between two low rise apartment buildings.</p>
<p>The first thing she could make out was wet blond fur, clinging to a body that was visibly struggling with something.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she called out to the creature, aiming her flashlight on the movement as she drew closer. “Hey, buddy, you okay? You stuck on something?”</p>
<p>As she stepped into the alley, the dog flopped out from behind a stack of garbage, snarling and snapping in a panic. Gwen hesitated, her thirium pump pulsing faster as her nerves were set on edge. The snarling made everything in her tense, sounding too much like the feral Hounds that had almost attacked her a few months ago.</p>
<p>“Chill,” she murmured to herself. “Chill out. Come on.”</p>
<p>She shook herself and proceeded closer.</p>
<p>The dog turned out to be a small yellow lab, a mutt mixed between a Labrador and maybe a terrier of some kind. The thing was tangled up in some old netting that someone had improperly thrown out in the garbage. Looked like it had gotten tangled while trying to rummage around for scraps. She could see a dark collar around its neck, so it must have an owner around here somewhere.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, calm down, puppy,” she tried to sound gentle, but her nerves were starting to fray with each step closer that she took.</p>
<p>It’s just a dog. It’s a small, scared dog. Get it together, Gwen. She took a short breath and exhaled it as she took another step. The dog yanked backwards and yelped as the netting tightened around one of its forepaws.</p>
<p>“Stop that. Stop it. Easy,” she rambled. “We’ll get you loose.”</p>
<p>She scanned the animal and found that it wasn’t injured, just panicking and cold from the rain. It was well nourished and groomed, and although the tags on the collar had snapped off, she detected a microchip under its skin.</p>
<p>This was a dog that was well cared for and loved, and so surely it wasn’t dangerous. Surely it wasn’t going to attack her. She was okay…She just had to take it slow.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she said, coming to a stop just outside the little thing’s reach. She wirelessly accessed the information stored on the microchip now that she was in range. “Your name’s Frankie? Hey, Frankie?”</p>
<p>The dog continued to struggle against the netting, but its tail involuntarily wagged twice at hearing its name.</p>
<p>Frankie. Two year old spayed female, lab-terrier mix.</p>
<p>Gwen accessed the owner’s contact information, realizing that their home address was just a few blocks away. Thinking quickly, she drew a small pocketknife from her belt and carefully leaned toward the dog.</p>
<p>“Okay, Frankie, you just take it easy on me, and I’ll take it easy on you.”</p>
<p>Frankie twisted enough that her eyes found Gwen’s, and they were dark and wide with panic. Gwen’s earlier nerves settled as a stronger instinct came over her, and she moved more purposefully toward the distressed canine.</p>
<p>“I gotcha, pretty girl. C’mon. Let me cut you out, and I’ll get you home.”</p>
<p>Frankie had stopped thrashing at that point, looking more paralyzed from her panic now. Only her trapped forepaw was trembling to give her away.</p>
<p>“Brave girl,” Gwen cooed. “Here we go.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>“So then what happened?” Julia asked, turning off the stovetop in Hank’s kitchen.</p>
<p>She poured the steaming thirium from the kettle into one of Hank’s coffee mugs that had catfish on it.</p>
<p>In the living room, Connor was sitting forward on the couch, forearms on his knees and staring intently at the four screens on the television, watching the squad’s progress. Julia finished pouring and looked over at him. His eyes were fully locked on the monitor, and occasionally his chest was hitching as he avoided taking deep breaths. Or maybe he couldn’t ventilate properly. Being as wound up as he was…that hitching was only going to get worse.</p>
<p>“Connor,” she spoke a little more loudly to get his attention.</p>
<p>He blinked and slowly turned his head to look at her. He looked blank, and Julia’s minor irritation at being ignored evaporated. She softened and carried the mug into the living room.</p>
<p>“You were telling me about the time Sumo rolled in the freshly cut grass, and his fur turned green. What happened next?” she repeated herself.</p>
<p>Connor blinked, then exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Oh, we…I gave him a bath. That…That was all there was to that story.”</p>
<p>She wasn’t doing a very good job of distracting him, and Julia inwardly chided herself for that. It didn’t help that there were four live feeds being fed to him on the squad’s progress in the search for the missing dog. Somewhat stiffly, Julia sat down next to him, looking at the television as well.</p>
<p>At this point, Apollo and Zeke had met up and were pursuing a lead that wasn’t visible on the feed. Zeke had stopped talking through the speaker as well, and the silence had left a vacuum in the house. Gwen had found and freed another dog, and she was currently walking the dog on a makeshift leash up to a lit front porch, presumably the dog’s owner’s home.</p>
<p>This was proven to be correct as the door opened, and a teenaged girl answered, immediately dropping to her knees and pulling the wet dog into a hug, visibly emotional and relieved.</p>
<p>Connor winced and then hiccupped. He coughed once, and then gagged, trying to stifle more from coming. It didn’t work, only making it worse, and he doubled over, coughing wetly. It didn’t pass quickly, and he coughed harder, without any reprieve to catch his breath.</p>
<p>Concerned, Julia set the mug down on the coffee table in front of them, holding her hands out but not touching him yet, ready to grab him in case he collapsed.</p>
<p>“Easy,” she tried to reassure.</p>
<p>Connor managed to take in one ragged breath, and then his head was practically between his knees as he coughed deeply. His back buckled with a gagging reflex, and then Julia was moving on instinct. She was on her feet and lunging toward the desk in front of the living room window. She snatched up the small trash can sitting beside it and hastily jammed it between Connor’s feet, just in time for Connor to begin coughing up fluid.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she stammered, grasping his shoulders and awkwardly standing over him. “You’re okay. Just get…get it out. Get it all out.”</p>
<p>Connor could do little else as his system rebelled against him, and Julia grimaced at the sound of sick hitting in the inside of the trash can. She could feel heat coming off his shoulders. It wasn’t at a dangerous level yet, but it was definitely elevated.</p>
<p>Mercifully, the fit began to subside after a few moments, and Connor wheezed hoarsely, keeping his face turned downward just in case. His eyes were screwed shut, and Julia couldn’t blame him for not wanting to see what was in front of him. He finally took a few careful breaths, and a small shiver passed through his frame.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she repeated, idling for a helpless moment before getting her bearings. “Take, um, take slow, shallow breaths for right now. Try to ventilate and lower your temperature.”</p>
<p>“The—“</p>
<p>“Don’t strain your throat. Don’t try to speak,” she said, stepping around the couch. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>She hurriedly grabbed a wash cloth from the bathroom and dampened it in the sink, wringing it out slightly. She paused and then did the same with a second cloth. She carried both back into the living room, holding the first one out toward his hands.</p>
<p>“Here,” she offered.</p>
<p>He blindly took the towel, spitting one final time into the trash can before wiping the cool, damp cloth over his face, down over his mouth and nose, where the thirium and fluid had come out of both orifices. Julia folded the second towel over and gently set it against the back of his neck, trying to provide some kind of relief. Connor was still keeping his eyes closed, and Julia gingerly sat next to him again, taking up a magazine from the table and fanning him with it to give him some air.</p>
<p>“Okay…You okay? You’re okay,” she stated, unsure if she was reassuring him or herself at this point.</p>
<p>“Nothing…about this is…okay,” he garbled out.</p>
<p>He took two bracing breaths before starting to uncurl and sit up properly again. He had managed to get most of the blue off of the lower part of his face, but his skin was flushed from the exertion of the fit and the overheating that came with it. After a beat, he chanced a furtive look in her direction, testing the waters to see her reaction to his condition. Julia ensured her expression was calm.</p>
<p>If the roles were reversed, she would have been mortified and humiliated to be seen like this. The last thing she would want was to be pitied or to be coddled to. It hadn’t been very long ago that the roles HAD been reversed actually, and Connor had helped her to endure a full blown panic episode with some level of her dignity left. She owed the same to him now…but she didn’t know how.</p>
<p>“You look like shit,” she attempted to sound teasing.</p>
<p>Connor started to glare at her, and she quirked her eyebrows playfully. His scowl withered away, and he snorted, wincing and rubbing his hand over his chest.</p>
<p>“Your…bedside manner…needs improving,” he wheezed.</p>
<p>She smirked and subtly moved the trash can away and out of his view, to deal with later.</p>
<p>“I’ll add it to my list of faults,” she said smoothly, then sobered. “Is there anything I can get for you? I can’t believe the facility sent you home like this without some kind of…supplies or something to get you through this.”</p>
<p>Connor took another careful breath, gaining some confidence when it didn’t backfire on him. “Perk of being a rare model…Some repairs are just…doing the best they can without…blueprints to work with.”</p>
<p>Julia grimaced. She hadn’t thought about that.</p>
<p>“Right…Well, still…Is there—Is there anything? You coughed up a lot of…mostly thirium…” She remembered the mug. “I heated some up for you…Might help?”</p>
<p>Connor winced as he touched his throat gingerly, one eye squinted shut as he looked at her.</p>
<p>“You heated up…thirium? It didn’t evaporate?”</p>
<p>Julia cobbled together a small smile. “There’s an art to it. Here.”</p>
<p>She picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him. He hesitated just for a moment before accepting it, holding it up and inhaling some of the steam. The smallest relief seemed to cross his face, and some of the deep, frowning lines on his forehead started to even out. Julia took that as a victory and turned the towel on his neck over, flipping the cool side down against his skin.</p>
<p>Connor took a tentative sip of the thirium, wincing as it went down but looking relieved once he’d managed to swallow it. Julia gave him some time, looking at the television again. It looked like Gwen had rejoined Zeke and Apollo, and the background where they were at was similar to Polly’s feed. So it looked like they were starting to close the proverbial net on Sumo’s location.</p>
<p>Julia sure hoped that’s what they were doing at least.</p>
<p>Connor wheezed again, setting the thirium down, and in doing so, his eyes caught on the edge of the trash can that she had moved. He grimaced in embarrassment and closed his eyes again, turning his face away slightly.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Julia blinked at him incredulously, unsure what to say to that.</p>
<p>“You can still…go if you want to,” he mumbled. “I’ll be fine on my own.”</p>
<p>Julia started to balk, but the undercurrent of his tone betrayed him. He wasn’t offering her a chance to leave because he didn’t want her here, or because he didn’t like her…neither of which she would blame him for…Rather, it seemed like he more just…didn’t like being seen this way. Not at the top of his game. Not in control of things.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he mumbled again, pinching the skin between his eyes, “if that’s…rude.”</p>
<p>A startled laugh scoffed out of her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding me,” she said. “Sorry, that—You’re apologizing for being…rude?”</p>
<p>Connor flinched, turning his head to peer at her pitifully. Julia stared at him in disbelief, then shook her head and scooted over on the couch, putting some more room between them so as to not crowd him.</p>
<p>“Connor…If…If anybody in this room needs to be apologizing for that, it’s me,” she blurted.</p>
<p>Connor blinked at her. Julia stared back at him, feeling her insides twist in discomfort. She rotated her shoulder to try and shake it off, trying to keep her nerve.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she stated plainly. “For the way I’ve been toward you since…meeting you.” She grimaced. “I’m still…working on some things with myself and—and I don’t…forgive people very easily…”</p>
<p>He lifted an eyebrow at her, and her shoulders slumped in confession.</p>
<p>“I know, I know…Like I said, I’ve got a list of faults to work on…but…Okay.” She recalibrated her thoughts, twisting in her seat to face him a little more. “We’re all pretty new to the whole deviancy thing. Some of us are handling it better than others. My…My first emotions were fear and then…anger. And…anger has kept me going. Being angry felt better than being scared, but I’m…getting tired of it. I don’t—Earlier you said you were tired of fighting with me, and I’m…I’m tired of fighting with you too. So…”</p>
<p>She shifted in her seat again, straightening her posture and extending a hand toward him, as if greeting him for the first time.</p>
<p>“Can we start over?”</p>
<p>It was a ridiculous request with questionable timing, and she saw that exact thought move across his eyes as he looked at her. After the way things had been between them until now, he had no reason to give her a second chance or trust her at all. But…nothing ventured, nothing gained…</p>
<p>Holding his gaze, she tried to stay resolute.</p>
<p>“Contrary to what you must think of me,” she added, “I don’t enjoy seeing anyone miserable and upset…that includes you.” She swallowed and held her hand out with as much sincerity as she could muster. “To second chances?”</p>
<p>Mercifully, after a stunned moment, he awkwardly reached out and took her hand, shaking it briefly.</p>
<p>“I would…like that,” he said.</p>
<p>The tightness in Julia’s chest eased somewhat, and it felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She exhaled and continued to shake his hand slowly between them.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she murmured, an involuntary smile touching her lips as she said it.</p>
<p>He smiled back at her, almost shyly, and there was a frail hope in his eyes that was desperate for her to be honest about this gesture. It was a humbling thing, and she inwardly charged herself to not be the one to break this second attempt at trust.</p>
<p>They were shaking hands for too long.</p>
<p>It was going to get weird if they didn’t—</p>
<p><em>“We found him!”</em> Polly cheered over the television’s speakers on the livestream.</p>
<p>Both Julia and Connor startled at the interruption, looking over at the screens in unison. His hand tightened around hers as he recognized the wet dog on the television, wagging his tail and hopping around the androids. Julia didn’t have the heart to pull her hand away, nor the desire, and instead she opened her hand more naturally for him to hold, giving him some much needed support as the sudden relief threatened to bring on another coughing fit.</p>
<p>“There, see?” she said quietly with a grin. “Safe and sound.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>Sumo, as it turned out, had not only found shelter and safety from the storm, but he had managed to get a free dinner out of it as well.</p>
<p>“Sumo, you big lug!” Hank hopped out of the Oldsmobile, walking fast to get out of the rain.</p>
<p>He reached the extended awning of the food truck where the Saint Bernard was. Zeke, Apollo, and Gwen had already arrived and had formed a ring encircling the dog in case he was to try and bolt again. Fortunately, the mutt was preoccupied with the owner of the food truck…or more accurately, the meatball sub sandwich in the man’s hand.</p>
<p>“Hi there,” the man greeted, popping another meatball out of the sandwich and tossing it to the dog. “Are you Connor?”</p>
<p>Hank ducked under the awning, shaking his jacket to get rid of the lingering rain. Polly broke away where she had followed him, moving toward her fellow androids to check on the dog.</p>
<p>“Hank,” Hank corrected, trying to put this picture together as he glanced from the man, to Sumo, to the truck.</p>
<p>The man looked like the stereotype for a lumberjack: tall, square, and barrel chested. He was bald on top but had a short, dark beard. He would have been physically intimidating if it wasn’t for the green and yellow flowery apron that he had on over his regular clothes. The colors matched the paint on the food truck, on the side of which read, in large font: “Bert’s Baked Stuffs.”</p>
<p>“Bert?” Hank asked, pointing at the truck with his thumb.</p>
<p>The man bobbed his head and stood, extending a hand toward Hank. “Yep. Nice to meet you, Hank.”</p>
<p>“You know Connor?” Hank asked, taking his hand.</p>
<p>Bert shook his head. “Nah, but I saw the local ‘missing dog’ post on the internet. I was packing up for the night when your buddy here showed up. He looked like the picture, so I lured him over.” He waved the remnants of his sandwich.</p>
<p>Hank snorted and gave his hand a final firm shake before letting go. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>He turned and knelt down, reaching for the wet, excited dog.</p>
<p>“C’mere, Sumo, you big oaf,” he chuckled.</p>
<p>Sumo gave one low boof before bounding toward Hank, pushing his giant, wet head into Hank’s neck and licking at the side of his face. Hank smiled in relief and put his arms around the dog in a quick squeeze of a hug.</p>
<p>“Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered into the fur. “You about scared the Hell out of me.”</p>
<p>“I’ll message Connor and Julia and let them know,” Polly stated, her LED spinning yellow.</p>
<p>Sumo’s tail wagged back and forth, slapping Gwen and Apollo’s legs as it did so. Polly stood clear of the tail, happily patting Sumo on the back and looking pleased that they’d accomplished their mission. Zeke was on Gwen’s other side, and he had been summarily distracted by…</p>
<p>“Why does it smell like thirium in there?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Well, probably because there’s thirium in there,” Bert stated.</p>
<p>Hank leaned out of the hug, letting Sumo lick his chin one more time and ruffling the dog’s ears before standing up out of his kneel. He looked at Zeke, at the truck, and then at the others. They were huddled around the Saint Bernard and Hank, ensuring that Sumo could not escape again. They all also looked happy with themselves for finding Sumo safe and unhurt. He felt a swell of gratitude toward them.</p>
<p>“What’s a food truck doing with thirium?” Gwen asked, starting to smell it now too.</p>
<p>Bert surrendered the meager remains of his sandwich to Sumo, who eagerly chomped on it. He looked at Hank and then fondly smacked his hand to the back of the colorful truck.</p>
<p>“This here is the first thirium-based food truck in Detroit,” he said, beaming proudly. “I’ve got a few android friends who were lamenting that there’s no variety in thirium. It’s all just the same liquid with the same taste, compared to human food. So…I figured out how to flavor and shape thirium into things that hopefully taste and smell better than that stuff. I call them…Thiri-Yums,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and looking far too pleased with himself.</p>
<p>Hank stared at him, snorted, and shook his head. “Right…Well, good luck with that.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, I’ll need it,” Bert smirked, paused, then perked up again. “Because thirium doesn’t retain any flavor or shape after about twelve hours, before it all just kinda reverts back into liquid form or evaporates. So I’ve been donating whatever’s left at the end of the day over to Jericho…But…I’ve still got some hot soup and cookies…and you guys look all…wet and tired.”</p>
<p>The androids’ eyes all lit up, and they stood at attention like a squad of pigeons at the mention of a warm meal after the cold, dark, wet evening they’d all had. Hank smirked at them, and the gratitude was still warm in his chest.</p>
<p>“I’ll buy out whatever you’ve got left,” he said, looking to Bert and reaching for the wallet in his pants pocket.</p>
<p>Polly, Gwen, Zeke, and Apollo all straightened up, trying and failing to hide their delight at the idea of trying flavored thirium.</p>
<p>Bert smiled but raised a hand. “On the house.”</p>
<p>Hank shook his head. “Oh no, please, let me—Sumo’s already done away with your dinner…”</p>
<p>Bert looked like he wanted to argue, but Hank lightly glared at him. Bert snorted and put his hands on his hips.</p>
<p>“Well, all right then…Which one of you is Connor? The, uh, the missing dog post was worded like he was pretty worried…”</p>
<p>“He’s stuck at home sick,” Hank explained.</p>
<p>“We volunteered to help look for him,” Zeke chirped.</p>
<p>Bert looked around at them, then landed his eyes on Hank. “Well, why don’t we take this party to him? I doubt you can all fit in that Oldsmobile back there with this guy,” Bert said, lightly patting Sumo’s nose. “But between your car and my truck, we can get everybody home.”</p>
<p>Hank sighed and folded his arms. “You trying to fulfill your nice guy quota tonight?”</p>
<p>Bert chuckled. “You caught me. Any takers?”</p>
<p>Zeke, Gwen, and Polly eagerly moved toward the truck to take him up on the offer. Apollo stayed by Sumo, looking to Hank and mutely asking permission to accompany Hank and Sumo home in the car instead. Hank gave him a nod and shook Bert’s hand again.</p>
<p>“They’re a bunch of knuckleheads, but they’re...they’re good people.”</p>
<p>Bert bobbed his head. “Yeah, they tend to grow on you, don’t they?”</p>
<p>Hank smirked. “Like moss.” He glanced to the side. “C’mon, Apollo, Sumo. Let’s head home.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>It was an eternity before the headlights of the Oldsmobile rolled back up the driveway, and as soon as he saw them, Connor was scrambling out of the couch and to his feet. He unsteadily staggered around the couch and toward the front door.</p>
<p>“Connor, wait—“ Julia was up and after him, grabbing his elbow when he stumbled.</p>
<p>Connor coughed once but mercifully it stopped there, and he grasped the door knob and pulled the door open. Cold, wet air pushed inside, and he coughed again. His pause gave Julia enough time to get her arm around his middle, trying to hold him back.</p>
<p>“I WILL take you down and sit on you if I have to!” she threatened.</p>
<p>“Sumo—“ he said by way of excuse, pushing her off.</p>
<p>The Oldsmobile came to a stop, and the headlights shut off. Then the backseat door was opened, and the large Saint Bernard came bounding out. Apollo climbed out after him in pursuit, but Sumo had only one objective: get to Connor.</p>
<p>Connor managed to throw off Julia’s arm, but she stayed at his elbow to steady him as they both hurried down the front steps and onto the driveway, under the rain. Connor desperately dropped to his knees and threw his arms around the dog, pulling him close and dissolving into a choking mess of relief.</p>
<p>He barely registered the other set of headlights pulling up on the curb, or the rest of the android squad coming out with the food truck owner. He just buried his face in Sumo’s fur, the relief so all consuming that he wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears blurring his eyes.</p>
<p>“Sumo…Sumo…” he mumbled. “Thank goodness you’re safe…Sumo…”</p>
<p>Hank stepped around the car, his own joy at finding the lost dog being visibly tempered by Connor exposing himself to the weather in his condition.</p>
<p>He needn’t have worried so much, as Apollo hastily stripped off his own raincoat and draped it around Connor’s shoulders. Gwen, Zeke, and Polly crossed over, with Gwen opening an umbrella for them to huddle under. She tossed another one to Julia, who had forgotten her own jacket in the house in her haste to chase after Connor.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Connor wheezed, sniffling and raising his head out of Sumo’s fur.</p>
<p>Sumo was immediately licking at his face, as if to assure him that everything was okay.</p>
<p>Julia opened the other umbrella, holding it over herself and standing closer to Connor so that it covered him too.</p>
<p>“My, my, that’s a happy reunion!” Bert chirped, coming out of the food truck in his own heavy coat.</p>
<p>“Who—“ Julia started to ask.</p>
<p>Hank snorted. “Bert of, uh, Bert’s Baked Stuffs.” He gestured to the truck. “He found Sumo.” He grimaced at the rain and looked pointedly at Connor. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>..:--X--:..</strong>
</p>
<p>With no small amount of effort, Hank and the androids managed to separate Connor and Sumo long enough to get everybody in the house. They relieved Bert of his Thiri-Yum goods, while Hank forced Bert to let Hank pay for all of it. Then the lumberjack of a man was off on his merry way.</p>
<p>Now, Hank’s living room was full of androids, thirium soup and thirium cookies, and the smell of wet dog.</p>
<p>Connor sat on the couch, sandwiched between Gwen and Zeke, who were both happily slurping on soup and chewing on the cookies. Connor had not been enticed by the savory smelling soups, but he had continued to sip at the plain, warmed thirium in the coffee mug, to try and replenish some of his lost supply. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the towel over Sumo, who was parked between his knees.</p>
<p>Apollo and Julia were sitting at the kitchen table, and Polly sat on the floor, rubbing another towel over Sumo’s lower half that Connor couldn’t reach. Hank sat in his recliner, looking around at them all in amusement.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Connor said, his eyes on Sumo’s big, slobbery face.</p>
<p>He hesitated, then lifted his eyes to Polly, then to Gwen and Zeke, then over to Apollo and Julia.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he repeated sincerely. “Thank you all for looking for him.”</p>
<p>They awkwardly smiled in return, unsure how to receive that kind of gratitude.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.” Zeke found his words first.</p>
<p>“You would have done the same for us,” Gwen said next.</p>
<p>Connor looked at her, then back to Sumo, emotion swelling in his chest. He coughed again, but for the first time, it felt like the fluid in his lungs was starting to finally break up. Maybe this affliction was finally passing, and he was turning a corner in his recovery.</p>
<p>“You HAVE done the same for us…in your own ways lately,” Polly added. “Consider this…returning the favor.”</p>
<p>“Not a favor,” Apollo argued quietly.</p>
<p>Connor glanced over at him.</p>
<p>The stern faced PC200 looked uncomfortable at the attention, but he stared back at Connor.</p>
<p>“It was the right thing to do,” Apollo went on. “For…for a friend.”</p>
<p>The emotion in his chest burned, and it bubbled up to blur Connor’s eyes. His gaze slid over to Julia, who stared firmly back at him with a nod. Her expression then cracked with a small smile and a wink, and he exhaled in another wave of relief.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he repeated again.</p>
<p>“I’ll order ya’ll some matching bracelets,” Hank remarked, sipping at a ginger ale.</p>
<p>Gwen laughed at that, sitting back into the couch with her soup bowl.</p>
<p>“Hey, we’re a team, right?” Zeke said. “One for all, and all for one, and all that jazz?”</p>
<p>“Right!” Polly said, “And, uh…we can all be friends too, yeah?”</p>
<p>Connor gave a helpless smile, looking at her. “I’d…I’d like that.”</p>
<p>“Aw yeah. Here’s to the Oh Seven!” Zeke cheered, raising his cookie like a toast.</p>
<p>Hank smiled, as the rest of the androids repeated it back.</p>
<p>“Oh Seven!”</p>
<p>“Oh Seven,” Connor added belatedly, sniffing again and subtly wiping the moisture from his eyes. “Thank you…”</p>
<p>The room fell into a comfortable quiet, with the impromptu party chattering cheerfully amongst themselves while Connor and Polly finished toweling off Sumo.</p>
<p>It was the most at peace that Connor had felt in months…and he never would have predicted that he would feel that way while being surrounded by his android co-workers.</p>
<p>Maybe this period of coldness between him and them was also finally passing.</p>
<p>Maybe they were turning that corner as well.</p>
<p>Testing that idea, he lifted his eyes from Sumo’s fluffy face and gingerly looked over to Julia.</p>
<p>She was sitting across from Apollo, slowly sipping at her drink and looking at him as well. She offered a reassuring smile, and he felt a flutter in his chest…something close to hope.</p>
<p>Her LED spun a quick yellow, and a new text notification appeared in his HUD.</p>
<p>
  <em>Receiving invitation for group chat, named “DPD 07 Androids.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Invitation pending…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Join group chat?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No</em>
</p>
<p>Connor smiled, as the rain over the roof finally began to taper off and stop, signaling the end of the long storm.</p>
<p>
  <em>&lt;Yes&gt;</em>
</p>
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